


Dearest Harry – Eileen’s Story

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-12
Updated: 2007-10-16
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 53
Words: 171,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: Snape is on the run, persued by everyone, hated by all.  All that is except his mother and one day she calls her son to her house because she has something to tell him, a secret she has never shared.  Until now.....





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter, related nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling. Bloomsbury Books, Scolastic Inc., Warner Brothers and any other entity involved.

 

Betaed by the lovely Kim and TQA, Thanks very much ladies.

 

Chapter One

 

Eileen Prince was dying. She had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and it was killing her, rapidly. 

Cancer was a Muggle disease. It didn’t normally affect witches and wizards, usually their magic was too strong; but Eileen had never been lucky and she had never, ever done what most people did, she had always taken the hardest, most unexpected option. Now, all she had left in her life was her son, and he was currently on the run from the wizarding authorities. But she had to see him, her only child, the only child she had left and tell him the truth at last. Eileen had been sent a gift, a small pensieve, about the size of a soup bowl and inside it was a memory; a memory left to her by the great Albus Dumbledore. He had sent it to her to keep safe, so that when the war was over she could tell the world of her son’s innocence. She had done as he had asked, kept it and told no-one of its existence in the belief that it was the safest thing for her son. 

The only problem was, the old man wasn’t as omniscient as he’d thought himself. Eileen knew she wasn’t going to see the end of the war; she’d be lucky if she got to the end of the year come to that.

She wouldn’t be here to save Severus, not even if the war were over in mere months, but she had to help him and her only hope lay with a child she’d never met. She sighed to herself and took out the somewhat tattered picture that she always kept close. Somewhere in this awful world, she had a grandson and she wanted to meet him before she died, meet him and hand over the secret, the one that would vindicate her child.

She put the kettle on and opened a packet of her son’s favourite Garibaldi biscuits. Severus would be here any minute now and she was not looking forward to the conversation they were about to have. But he really should have trusted her. She was his mother after all was said and done and she loved him; if he could have trusted anyone with the secret of his spying then it should have been her. How different things would have been then. But there was no use crying over spilt milk was there? Today she would finally tell him the truth.

There was a rapid knock at the door and Eileen rose stiffly to answer it. She loved her son with all that she had, but she did not understand him. She had never really known why he had joined that gang of vicious thugs that surrounded the Dark Lord. She knew he had a chip on his shoulder though; that he was angry against the world, and she wished it could have been different. Wished she could have been different. But Severus had never really had a chance had he? Not with Tobias as a father.

Tobias had been handsome and dashing and had swept her off her feet. Severus, poor love, resembled his mum. He was tall and dark, right enough, but not terribly handsome and she said it who was his mother. Poor, poor Severus.

But now he was here and she opened the door to her son; the son for whom she had sacrificed so much, whom she owed so much.

“Hello Mum,” He said in his deep rich voice, the sexiest thing about him she’d always thought. Did a mother do that? She wondered, think about their child’s attractiveness? Maybe if they wanted grandchildren they did. But she already had a grandchild didn’t she, and who would have thought it eh? 

He had her in his arms now; he was tall and strong if a little thin at the moment. His face, his dear face, was creased in concern, when she should be concerned for him. She wanted to feed him up, look after him but he had said he didn’t have the time, and it wasn’t safe. He had to keep moving and she was too weak to do much in the way of cooking anyway.

“Come on in love,” she said, “look at you, you’re all wet,” she brushed the rain droplets from his shoulders as she spoke.

“Oh but who is this with you, love?” she asked, looking beyond him to the pale, slim blonde boy who stood shivering in the Yorkshire rain. She frowned because she didn’t want anyone else here. She saw little enough of Sev as it was, but the wee mite did look awful cold.

“This is Draco, Mum.” Severus said, “he has nowhere else to go. The Dark Lord wants to kill him, but if I keep him away long enough then he might just forget the little coward.” The boy cringed at Severus’ cold words, but he didn’t speak. “He’s the reason that I’m in this mess,” he grabbed the boy’s upper arm and dragged him into the house. “I’ve been hiding him, but we have just run out of places to go. I was hoping, that maybe…?”

“Oh no love,” Eileen said, “I couldn’t, not right now.” She steeled herself for the coming confrontation, took a deep breath and continued. “Listen Severus, love, you need to sit down. I’ve got kettle on and I have something to tell you. A lot to tell you. But come in and I’ll get you tea before we start.”

Severus was looking at her with those deep black eyes of his, wondering what she was up to; he’d always said he could read her like a book, but he never had been quite right on that one had he?

The boy followed behind her son, looking completely out of place in her cosy little sitting room. She loved her bungalow. It was warm and snug and Sev had bought it for her a few of years ago, when he’d taken over Spinner’s End. She had never liked that place. It always smelt of damp and it collected dust like nowhere else that she had ever lived. This place was far nicer in her opinion and she loved it. The boy had his nose in the air, though, as if her house smelt funny. It made her itch to smack it the pointy article, it did.

“You can sit in the kitchen I think,” She told the boy, “I need to talk to my son and I don’t want you ear wigging in!” The young man looked at Severus, seeking permission perhaps and when the ex-potions master nodded, he moved off to sit at the cloth-covered table, looking longingly at the biscuits piled in the centre. He didn’t touch mind, so somebody somewhere had taught him his manners once upon a time she reckoned, and she softened a bit towards him, “go on lad,” she said, “You look peckish, help yourself.” And as the boy tucked in she poured him a cup of tea and let him add his own milk and sugar.

Then she and Severus moved into the living room and sat down beside the gas fire, Eileen was very proud of it, it looked like a real fire but without any of the hassle of cleaning it out. Of course all her wizarding visitors had to Apparate rather than floo when they wanted to see her, but as she didn’t have many wizarding visitors that wasn’t really a problem anyway.

“I’m not well, Sev,” she began at last and as he started forward she raised her hand to stop him. “No love, not yet, I’ve got a lot to tell you and you need to listen carefully love, cause I don’t have a lot of strength right now”

She looked at her son to see that his eyes were suspiciously glassy, he didn’t cry her Severus, not since he’d been a wean. However, those dark eyes glistened a little more brightly in the gloomy sitting-room. It wasn’t really that cold, it was July after all, but Eileen thought it was the cancer getting to her. She couldn’t really keep weight on anymore, she was as thin as a stick, she knew. But Sev didn’t have long and she was getting tired so she launched right into the story she had to tell.

“Before I had you love, I got ill. It were a very stressful time, I had just defied your grandparents and run away from home to marry Toby, he were a right bad un, Toby were, but very romantic. There were a Muggle film star at the time called James Dean, he made this film, _Rebel Without a Cause_ and your dad looked just like him, even down to the hair! Anyway I had fallen in love with that film, when it came out a few years before, just like I fell for your dad. But your grandparents hated him, which of course made it all the more romantic didn’t it? We ran away to Gretna Green to get married, I was awful young, just seventeen, fresh out of Hogwarts. Young and very foolish.

I hadn’t told him about my magic though, he never knew, not about me being a witch, cause I used a glamour you see, it weren’t a very strong one because I was never that strong at spells, I was always better at potions, just like you are, love. But it made me more attractive, prettier, so that Toby would like me. Then I got ill and then I fell pregnant with you and that’s when it all went wrong. Your grandparents didn’t want to know me, see. They were very much into all this pureblood stuff, being from an old wizarding family, but I didn’t agree. My magic was weak enough as it was and I thought it were all that intermarriage that didn’t help, not that that was why I married Toby. But the pneumonia, cause that’s what it was, followed by your birth, well that just about finished me and I were easy prey for your dad’s temper. That’s where your get your temper from, your dad!”

She looked at him ruefully, she had never told him any of this, never wanted to, but he had to know now, whatever he thought of her

“After you were born I was very weak, and one day not long after I came back from hospital your dad decided that he wanted intimate relations again, but I wasn’t ready, I was too sore!” She didn’t realise that she was rocking to and fro now in her comfy arm chair with her arms wrapped around her, searching for the comfort that she had had precious little of in her life.

“Your sister was born just eight months later,” She ignored the sharp intake of breath that Severus made and continued on with her story.

“Your father had grown increasingly more violent and abusive, and I despaired of keeping you safe from him never mind myself, or another bairn come to that, so when I was two months pregnant I contacted the only person I thought who might be able to help us; your father’s sister Rosemary. 

Rosie hated Tobias and they never spoke. She lived at the other end of England, she already had a child, a little girl, but there had been complications at the birth and she couldn’t have more children. Rosie knew Tobias for what he was and she agreed to take the baby when she was born. Rosie came to see me when your father was not around, we had to be so careful, he hadn’t to see what was going on because he probably would have killed us both and then killed the child, he’d become so violent by then. So we were very careful, Rosie stayed away from her family and as close to me as she could for several weeks and it was her and her husband’s name put on the birth certificate not mine and your dad’s. Nobody except me, your aunty Rosie and your auntie’s husband George ever knew what had really happened.” 

Tears were running down Eileen’s cheeks now as she remembered holding her little girl for the first and last time, the downy head, those tiny perfect little hands, oh she was so beautiful, so precious.

“But I couldn’t protect you both, could I love? I had to choose, and I already had you I could never have given you away but I had to protect my little girl too. I am so sorry love. I just wasn’t strong enough to protect you both!

Sometimes in secret your auntie would send me photographs and little notes of her progress. I treasured them but I hid them away because if your father had known he would have gone mad! And as the years went by, he got worse, more violent and more angry. Then when you were six, we ran away, my magic was back by then, not strong, never strong but back nevertheless. We spent years in hiding, do you remember? I lost touch with Rosie, but I never forgot my little girl, and I often thought of her as the years went by.

Rosie, of course was a Muggle, but a nice lass for that. Her husband was called George Evans and their daughter was called after a flower, fancy name it was, Petunia, I think. Rosie insisted that I choose a name for my little girl as I would not see her again, or have any claims on her, so thinking about the other little girl’s name, I called your sister after my favourite flower, I called her Lily. Lily Eileen Evans.”


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

Chapter Two

 

Time stood still for Severus, he felt as if he had been sucker punched, as if the bottom had dropped out of his world. The little sitting room was the same with the cheery red rug in front of the fireplace and the rather battered “cottage suite” on which they sat, still in its usual place. The clock on the mantel ticked on, and normality continued, but Severus had just had his whole world turned upside down and nothing would be normal for him ever again.

He’d had a sister Lily, had been his sister.

Ever since he could remember, he had wanted a sibling; he had been such a lonely child, so alone, so isolated. They had spent much of his childhood on the run from Tobias so the young Severus had never really had time to make friends, not that he probably would have made any if he had had time, Severus had just been too _other_ , for all of his life. But then he had started Hogwarts and Lily had been his first friend, Lily had been kind to him. 

The first day on the train Severus had been terrified, he had never left his mother before over night, how could he have done? They had no friends nowhere Severus could stay. He had wanted to cry, he remembered. He had looked different from the other children, as his mother couldn’t afford new robes, he sounded different, he’d spoken with a thick Yorkshire accent, which had taken years to moderate and the other children had laughed at him. But Lily had flown to his rescue, standing up to the others, including the newly formed gang that later became the Marauders.

She had been a fearless little hellcat, defender of the weak and his staunch friend from then on. She had been drawn to him, and he to her and all the time, all the time she had been his little sister.

Severus felt tears start behind his eyes and looked up to see his mother watching him with concern and tenderness. He never cried, never. The last time that he’d even been close to tears was when Lily died. Lily, his sister.

“There love,” Eileen said, obviously able to read the brightening of his eyes “don’t take on so! I wish I didn’t have to tell you like this, but I really have no choice.”

“Bb….” Severus tried to speak but the words caught in the back of his throat, unable to squeeze past the huge lump that seemed to have formed there, he swallowed hard and tried again.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mum? Didn’t I have a right to know?”

“Oh Sevvy, I couldn’t, if your dad had found out he’d have killed me, giving away his little girl like that, and I’d made a promise to Rosie and of course I had no proof. I was going to tell you, when you reached seventeen, but then I couldn’t…….”

“Because I’d joined The Dark Lord.”

Eileen looked at him apologetically 

“Aye,” she said, “Aye, you did.”

“But if I had known, if only…”

Aye love, I know,” Eileen reached across the small space that divided them and patted he son’s hand comfortingly.

But why now? I’m on the run, hated by everyone, and Lily, why Lily is dead.” These last few words were almost a sob.

“I’m dying Sev,” she said her eyes meeting his, steady and strong, unwavering.

“No.” Severus shook his head in denial, he couldn’t process what she was telling him, she had always been so strong, so vibrant, so _alive_

“You can’t be,” he whispered, “Not you. What do you mean, dying? What do you mean, _Mum_?” the last word barely breathed, a hiss of disbelief. Severus was a man of strong emotions, but most of the time he suppressed them, it wouldn’t have done for the buttoned-up Potions master and spy to have shown emotion. Very few people could provoke him to an emotional display. Black had been one of them, Dumbledore another and of course, _Harry Potter_ always provoked him to extremes, but Severus refused to think about _him_ right now. The desperation that washed over him at his mother’s words nearly undid him completely and he grasped her hands in his own, willing her to tell him that what she’d just said was not the truth. But he was about to have any such hope destroyed. 

“I have cancer love,” Eileen continued, “it’s eating me away inside, I have a few months at most, I very likely won’t see Christmas.”

“No!” 

“You can’t, you always said you wouldn’t leave me.” Severus thought he sounded like a little child. He was close to breaking down, desperately trying to get a grasp on his emotions. He found himself on his knees with his head in his mother’s lap, wishing he could cry like a little boy. He had her hand clutched in his and held it to his cheek, like he had when he was small and she made bad dreams go away

He could not believe what she had just said it could not be true!

And yet, and yet.

Her skin had a yellowish tinge to it; her eyes had lost their sparkle, she was so very thin, and he knew with a certainty that he had very rarely felt in his life that his mother was telling him the truth. She didn’t have long, she was dying, she was going away for ever and leaving him behind.

He desperately wished that he could let go, sob out the pain as he had when he was a child. Instead, he just sat there, long limbs curled around himself, cramped on the floor of the neat bungalow. His face stayed buried in her skirted lap and he breathed in the scent of her, while she stroked his hair as she had so many times before; humming gently as his heart felt it would break He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity and she continued to stroke his hair and hum softly.

“Um Professor Snape, is everything all right?” It was Draco who’d spoken, Severus had forgotten he was there.

He looked up at the boy, the first time in months that he’d been able to forget about Malfoy. Severus hadn’t even noticed him make his way from the kitchen, but he stood in the doorway now, looking incongruous, in Eileen’s immaculate little home.

Severus felt fury bubble inside him, molten, unstoppable.

“Get out!” he hissed, pouring all his anger into the words he would wield against Draco. “Get out of my sight, it’s your fault it has come to this, you’re an ungrateful little shit!”

“Severus! That will do!” Eileen sounded scandalised. “I will not have such language in my home, or such boorish behaviour, come to that!”

Severus flinched, stung by her rebuke, if it hadn’t been for Draco Malfoy and Severus’ own foolish vow, he would still be a respected professor and able to see her often. “Mother. I am on the run, because of him.” He felt hurt that she would take another’s side, when he so needed her support. “I have to leave you soon, when I want to stay by your side and I have just murdered the greatest wizard of our age, because of him! I do not deserve your condemnation and I am a grown man, not a child to be told off for swearing.”

“You’re not a child, Severus, and I can see you’re right stressed by all this but I’ve never liked bad language, it doesn’t speak well of a man if he swears all the time.”

She was matter of fact in tone but she squeezed his hand gently as she spoke, as if to reassure him.

“And you didn’t murder Albus Dumbledore, he asked you to kill him.”

Severus’ jaw dropped open

Draco stood frozen in the doorway, grey eyes huge with astonishment. Severus had dragged him everywhere with him in the last few weeks, they had never been apart, but he had never told him the truth, he hadn’t spoken to him much at all come to that. Well he sure as hell knew everything now.

“Dumbledore left me a pensieve it tells the whole story.” His mother said, her Yorkshire accent stronger than ever right then, “His memories exonerate you for when the war is over, but Dumbledore didn’t know everything. The pensieve can only be unlocked by a close relative, only someone linked to you by blood can unlock it, and if this war drags on much longer I won’t be around to do it, we have no choice Sevvy, I’ll not see you go to Azkaban, or Kissed. You have to find my grandson and bring him here to see me.”

 

************

 

Severus made tea. He watched Eileen blow on the hot brew and cup it in both her hands, trying to warm herself, perhaps. Draco had crept nearer and now perched in the corner of the sofa, with a mug of his own.

Severus almost felt sorry for him. Almost. If it had not been for this odious little snot, Albus would still be alive and they would have a chance of winning this war. If Severus hadn’t saved his life like he had, then at least he would still have been in the Dark Lord’s favour, well maybe he would, but there was no guarantee, Voldemort was completely mad now, there was no telling what he was going to do anymore. Severus sighed, no-one deserved a fate like the one that the evil wizard had set aside for the Malfoy heir, not that he thought Draco thanked him for his life or appreciated what he had sacrificed for the boy. But he had promised Narcissa, and now they were bound together, so where Severus went Draco went and that was that.

Eileen had something in her hand, it must have been tucked beside her in her chair, but she held it out for Severus to look at. 

“This is the only photo I have of them son,” She said, she had put her tea aside and her hand trembled a little. “Rosie sent this, just before she died.” Severus stood and walked over to his mother and looked at what she was showing him. It was a Muggle photograph, it didn’t move. It showed a red haired woman holding a tiny baby. Her eyes were dancing with joy; Severus could see that, even in this flat, motionless thing, it was nothing like magical photos which were just so much richer. Lily’s eyes shone, just like they had so often in life and in her arms she held a child, a baby boy with a shock of dark hair, and eyes already as green as the eyes of the woman who held him, Eileen’s grandson, Severus’ nephew. Harry Potter


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Harry was lying on his back, staring at a crack in the ceiling; he had been familiar with this particular crack since the age of eleven when he had first been moved here. All those summers when he had only been allowed out to cook or clean, when he had been locked away and barely fed. He had marched armies across that ceiling in his mind, pretended the crack were a shore against which he could crash a stormy sea or even imagine it was a path to anywhere, really that wasn’t here!

This summer the Dursleys had more or less left him alone, he was sporting a cracked lip from where Dudley had smacked him a few days ago and his ribs were still sore from when his uncle had slammed him into a wall just yesterday, if only he didn’t feel so bad. He felt feverish, as if he were coming down with flu or something and Harry hated being ill. His only memories of childhood illnesses involved being shut in a cramped space, hot and shivery with a sore dry throat.

He had seen adverts on TV when children were sick and their parents gave them medicine, and tucked them under fluffy duvets, Aunt Petunia had always done that for Dudley, but nobody, not in all his life as far as he could remember had ever done such a thing for Harry. But now he was getting maudlin it must be his aching head. So he gave himself a shake and concentrated again on the book he was trying to read. It didn’t matter anymore anyway, none of it mattered because in just eighteen hours Harry would be seventeen and his childhood would be over for good.

He was happy about it, really he was, he just wished that somewhere, he had someone who had cared about him during his childhood. There had been Sirius of course, he had loved Sirius so much and had spent the whole of last year determined not to think about him. There had been so much going on that it had not been too hard. But this summer during the endless hours of the night, he had thought time and time about his godfather and wished with all his heart that things could have been different.

He had kept his promise to Dumbledore though, despite the fact that he Ron and Hermione had spent their days searching for Horcruxes he had dutifully returned every night to his aunt’s house and today, he had decided that it was best if he spent the whole day here, he knew that Petunia and Vernon would want to get the most out of him and would probably work him like a dog trying to get those last few jobs sorted out before he disappeared from their lives for ever. Of course there was one other factor, that prevented him leaving the house today and carry on with his allotted task of Horcrux hunting, he felt like shit!

There was a thud against his door. It was Vernon letting him know that it was morning and time for his work schedule to start. He had tried at the beginning of the summer to get out of these tasks but his uncle was not completely stupid, mostly yes, completely no. He knew that Harry had to come back here to ensure the magical protection that would be so necessary to him in his fight against the Evil Red Eyed One. So he made some demands.

No magic, absolutely none whatsoever. No freaks staying in his precious house thank you very much, and all those jobs that the lazy little freak had never bothered to complete finished, done, finito. 

So Harry had done his best to abide by these rules and Vernon had let him stay and he had been fed well enough because he always ate before he returned and he could survive the occasional slap or bash, he had been doing it for long enough after all. He would not be fed today he knew, but the way he felt right now that didn’t matter anyway.

He swung his legs out of bed and swayed on his feet as he stood, the whole room was blurry, even with his glasses on and Harry thought ruefully that in his opinion the blurriness did quite a bit to improve it. He turned to the door to find as usual that his uncle had unlocked it and wondered idly if he would be allowed a shower. A smack across the back of his head as he emerged answered that little query.

“Hurry up, boy. You have a lot to do today before you bugger off for good, do what you have to do and be downstairs in three minutes.”

Harry nodded and headed for the bathroom to indeed do what he had to do.

 

Harry was cleaning the kitchen window, no matter how hard he tried today he could not get the smears out. The world seemed to be getting more and more wobbly and the ladder felt distinctly unsafe. Harry was desperately thirsty, he had had nothing since his bathroom visit that morning and his mouth felt dry and parched. He had to have some water maybe Aunt Petunia would let him drink from the kitchen tap? She generally did not let him in the kitchen if he was doing outside jobs but he was so desperate now that he knew he would just have to ask.

He knocked gently on the back door and when there was no answer he quietly let himself inside. Thanking whichever god had removed Petunia temporarily from her domain, Harry made his way over to the tap and turned it on. He knew he was not allowed to touch any of the glasses or crockery he drank directly from the water stream. He felt absolutely wonderful against his sore throat and Harry shut his eyes with pleasure only to find himself being dragged away by his hair.

“What are you doing?” It was his Aunt screeching at him, she looked half demented with anger. “You are going to make my kitchen filthy you wicked, wicked boy!” Harry was definitely swaying on his feet now.

“Sorry Aunt Petunia, thirsty, so thirsty!”

He half saw the rolling pin coming at him from the corner of his eye, normally he could have ducked it, but not today, it caught him square on his shoulder blade and Harry heard a sickening crack.

“Ow,” he said as he fell heavily to the kitchen floor. He was slipping in and out of consciousness now but he could hear his aunt screeching even more loudly, and she was kicking his sore ribs with her shiny court shoe.

“M’sorry,” he muttered wetly, his mouth was bleeding he must have hit it on the way down, but he hurt so much all over now that he could not bring himself to care. He felt himself being dragged out of the kitchen by strong meaty hands but he could not move, could not resist.

“Look at the mess Vernon,” his aunt was saying, “The filthy boy is bleeding everywhere, 

“Its alright love I’ll get him out of sight for now, and I will throw him out in a minute, he broke his promise, he hasn’t finished half the jobs he said he’d do.”

Harry was surprised uncle Vernon was home already? It must be six o’clock in just six hours he would be seventeen. Vernon was shoving him in to the cupboard kicking him hard to try and make him go in, but Harry had grown a lot since eleven and he didn’t exactly fit very well anymore. He did his best though, with the last of his rapidly disappearing strength he bent his knees and rolled himself in through the entry, only to find the door slammed shut and bolted behind him. Harry sighed at least he had had a drink, though his mouth was now full of blood and Aunt Petunia’s voice was muffled because she really did hurt his head.

Then he heard screaming, terrified screaming followed by the tell tale pops of apparition, multiple apparitions. 

“Death Eaters Vernon, Death Eaters!! They are outside, hundreds of them, at the edge of the garden. They’ll kill us all, oh God they’ll kill us all.”

Harry thought idly to himself that he should get up, go out there and try to defend his family, but it was really weird, it was almost as if he could feel the blood wards working, tingling through his veins. As long as they stayed here they would be safe, at least until midnight anyway! Then they could have a birthday party! Harry sighed, he hated birthdays he thought and he slipped blissfully into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

When Severus and Draco arrived in Little Whinging it was swarming with Death Eaters. He used a word under his breath that his mother would definitely not approve of and shoved Draco under the cover of a large privet bush, he would have to grab a couple of the Death Eaters and stun them and steal their robes. It was the only way that he could see that he could get Malfoy and himself close to the house. Severus had not realised that Potter’s address was known, so either the Dark Lord had just discovered it or he had been suspect for longer than he’d realised.

One of the dark figures that were surrounding the house stepped backwards towards him, and Severus whispered a stunning spell, under his breath. He would bind whoever it was and leave them for the aurors. He quickly stripped the robes, glaring at Draco who was sitting huddled under the bush, obviously terrified. Snape cursed the luck again that had landed him with Malfoy, as much as he hated Potter _his nephew!_ he thought bitterly, at least the boy would have been doing something to help! 

He had dragged the robes off the unconscious man at his feet and thrown them at Draco. He pulled the mask off only to discover Marcus Flint underneath. Severus felt desperately sad for a moment, he had once had quite high hopes for this boy, he had indeed been somewhat thuggish at times but he had always had a good heart, he had hoped that Flint’s family neutrality might have kept him out of the war, but it seemed he was wrong.

He sighed deeply bound and gagged the boy, casting Petrificus Totalis; he rolled him quite gently under the bush. Two minutes later however when he caught Broadbent, whom Severus had always found to be an irredeemably brutal oaf, he was far less gentle and gave him a couple of kicks for good measure when he rolled him out of sight.

Suitably attired he set off in the direction of Number Four dragging Draco’s with him as always, although as he got closer to the house he let go of the boy’s arm and let him follow or not, as he wished. Severus really could not bring himself to care at the moment. All he could think about right now was his mother, and what the hell he was going to do without her. Nobody stopped them, or challenged them, Severus had been a fake Death Eater for long enough that he could pass quite nicely in the crowd when he needed to and there were enough young ones about so that Malfoy’s fearfully shambling gait would go un-noticed.

The houses in this area were very expensive, he would have given much to have grown up in an area like this, instead of on the run, from bedsit to bedsit for much of his childhood, whilst his mother tried to make ends meet with a series of dead end jobs and the occasional potions sale. He imagined Potter spending time in this street, looking out of the window of the large bedroom that the allowance from his mother and father would have paid for, and scorning the children who would have to come through these streets on their way from the council estate close by, to the local primary school. 

His mother wanted to meet her grandson; Merlin knew what the reality of the arrogant young Potter would do to her! He would just have to threaten the boy with dire consequences if he dared to upset her, or scorned her beloved little house. They were close to the wards now, once the other side of them he and Draco would be safe from hexes, momentarily at least, and he would be able to find out whether Potter had had enough sense to at least send a Patronus to the order, as they would hardly accept his, the position he was in right now. 

He looked objectively at the several muggle bodies lying on the ground, there was nothing that could be done for any of them, but hopefully the ones in their houses would have the sense to stay there until he could alert The Order. He did not think that the Death Eaters had been here very long, they did not need a lot of time to do the amount of damage that they had managed already! Cars over turned, a crater in the road, trees and bushes on fire. Somewhere in the distance he heard a woman scream and winced, please God let someone get here soon. He had to get to Potter.

He heard the nasal tones of Pettigrew, amid the crowd of men dressed in black. “The wards will fall at midnight we think, as soon as Potter turns seventeen, we’ll get in then. We must seal the area to stop any of these muggles getting out but in the meantime we can have ourselves some fun.”

Severus felt disgusted

He sent of a sneaky cutting spell in the direction of ratboy, and was gratified to hear a yell from him and see him start to look around wildly to see who might have hexed him.

Luckily they were right beside the wards and Severus grabbed Draco’s wrist and began to run. Dumbledore had keyed Severus into the wards, which were configured so that no one who meant Potter harm could enter, and despite the school boy tricks that Draco had played Severus did not think that he truly meant him harm, especially now that the Golden Boy was probably his only chance. It took them only seconds to reach the front door and he ripped off his mask and threw it aside ignoring the shouts and the hexes, which were bouncing harmlessly of the ward. He smiled nastily and aimed a wave at Pettigrew, who had always been in Severus’s opinion a spineless little shit. With his wand out he cast Alohomora and a second later they were inside Harry Potter’s home.

Once in the ornately carved “Mock Oak” door though Severus’s world tilted on its access. This was most definitely not what he was expecting. The hallway was grossly over decorated, and hung with muggle photographs of a very overweight child at various stages of maturity. There was no sign of Potter, Severus had hoped to get in a quick explanation before the boy hexed him and then hopefully, as he had come to help, Potter would leave the arguments and words of hatred until later, but there was no sign of him. Instead Severus was confronted by a grossly overweight man brandishing a chair at him, behind the man cowered a skeletally thin woman and a boy who almost certainly outweighed a baby elephant.

“Why thank you,” he drawled, “I would like a seat, but perhaps a little later? Where’s Potter, I have come to help and we need to talk strategy.”

“You come near us freak and I’ll give you what for!” The fat man was shouting, Severus just sneered at him and vanished the chair 

“Where is Potter?” He asked again feeling quite happy to start hexing these dreadful relatives, well, _of his,_ he thought with not a little distaste. The skinny woman was his cousin he realised and he wrinkled his not inconsiderable nose with distaste.

The three muggles looked at the door under the stairs, the door to what must have been a cupboard. Severus was astonished, were they hoping to protect Potter by hiding him in there? Did they not realise that a simple point me spell would be enough for any Death Eater to find him almost instantly? 

“Move aside,” he said, heading towards the cupboard, what ridiculous nonsense was Potter up to now, didn’t he realise that he needed to be out here ready to fight?

The fat man squeaked as Severus walked forward and Severus just raised his eyebrows at him.

“He is lazy and useless,” the man said, “you don’t understand what it has been like for us, we had to get rid of him he was bleeding all over the kitchen floor you know!”

Severus was a bit worried now, “why was Potter bleeding?” He asked sternly.

“Don’t know,” the fat man replied, rather sullenly Severus thought, “probably wanted to wreck the floor before he finally pissed off for good!”

To say that Severus was surprised would have been an understatement, trouble in Paradise eh? He thought to himself, what had perfect Potter done to upset his odious relatives!

He drew back the bolt – they had locked him in? Since when did a locked door stop Potter? He drew himself up to berate the boy, but the sight that met him on the other side of that door would stay with him for the rest of his days. Curled in a ball, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, battered and bruised and bleeding at the mouth, was Harry Potter. Draco gasped aloud behind him

“Potter!” he turned to the relatives and said angrily “what have you done to him?” It was the most the boy had said all day, but Severus could not be bothered to take notice right now. The boy was feverish and shivering, muttering to himself, he was obviously delirious.

Severus whirled around. “How long as he been like this?” He demanded. No one seemed prepared to meet his eyes, they all looked away, till finally under his gimlet stare the fat man shrugged his shoulders, “seemed all right this morning,” he answered gruffly, “I hope he hasn’t brought any germs back with him, I don’t want my Petunia or Dudley getting ill.”

“Don’t worry you odious man, what he has is magic fever, his magic has been coming in properly over the last couple of days,” Severus was feeling the boy’s brow frantically, trying to gage just exactly how high his temperature was, “you should have called somebody in, called for help, he should be in bed with an anti fever potion, not shoved in a cupboard!”

“We do enough for him,” The fat man said, never wanted him in the first place.”

“For God sake man!” Severus shouted, “He is desperately ill! He might die!” The fat man shrugged his shoulders, “well good riddance to bad rubbish, he never was much use. Bad blood if you ask me!”

Severus was absolutely appalled, never mind that the “bad blood,” that the idiot was talking about was _his_ blood, his flesh and blood. The man was talking about a child, a sick child. Who wouldn’t help a sick child? As he looked at the faces of these awful people he realised that they truly did not care. “ Well you had better help me and help me now!” He hissed, “ because the only thing stopping those evil killers out there from coming in and torturing you to death is this boy, if he dies right now then so do you, because he” He gestured towards Draco “and I will just leave you to it! This boy that you scorn is the last hope for the world, because if he dies then they,” He waved his hand in the direction of the Death Eaters gathered outside, “They win! And the world, the whole world!” Poking his sharp finger in Vernon Dursley’s chest “Goes to Hell!”

The fat man looked like he might explode he was red and shaking, but he said no more right now, for all at once Potter let out a groan

Severus looked back down at the boy, and his eyes met a pair of sparkling green ones which glittered with fever, the boy seemed to be trying to push himself to a sitting position. Severus knelt and helped him, drawing back when Potter yelped with pain, he had only touched him for a moment, but he had felt the bones in Potter’s shoulder grind together. It was broken. The boy looked up at him, obviously puzzled.

“Lo, Professor,” He said, somewhat wetly though the blood that still seemed to be filling his mouth. “Have you come to kill me?” Then he was violently and spectacularly sick, all over Severus shoes.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A/N Sorry to have taken so long to update but I have not been well. Should be back to the normal schedule any day now though! Thanks to Kim for the betaing ~ Lucie

 

Potter had fainted again after he had been sick. Curling his mouth in disgust, Severus had cast a quick scourgify and had bent over to pick up the boy. But it was just too cramped in the cupboard and there was absolutely no room to manoeuvre. In the end he had had to vanish the wall to get the boy out. The odious relatives had objected until he offered to vanish them too.

“Where is his bedroom?” he asked. He had just carried Potter, rather than levitating him, since he weighed so little. Such a scrap of a boy now that he was unconscious, and Severus realised that the spirit that burned brightly within him made him seem much larger than he truly was. He followed the thin woman up the stairs to a poky little room that smelt dusty and unused. The woman, his cousin Petunia, had stood aside to let him past and Malfoy, who as always these days, was right behind him

So, Severus was the first to enter the room that he had imagined to be stuffed with treasures, only to find that it was barely larger than a cupboard itself. The sheets on the cheap divan were thin and worn, almost transparent with age, and a rather nasty peach colour. There was a particularly scrappy chipboard wardrobe shoved into a corner and an equally cheap and tatty bedside table. This was Potter’s room?

Draco let out a gasp of astonishment.

And Snape turned to look at him. This cramped squalor was a long way from what they had both expected for Potter. 

He turned to the woman who still stood waiting outside the door. “Get me some clean bedding,” he snarled, “something that is fit for him to sleep on. Something other than dust-sheets, and hurry up about it!”

“Now see here, I’m not having Petunia run around after that freak. Those sheets are good enough for him. If we give him anything else, then we’ll only end up burning them,” Dursley growled, coming up the stairs behind his wife.

Snape was sure his jaw dropped open at that point. He had thought earlier, for a moment, that Harry had just had a little row with his family, which would account for any unusual behaviour on their part. However, it was becoming more and more obvious that he was sadly mistaken. If he were honest with himself, he was not as surprised at what he had found as he should be. He had had inklings occasionally that Potter’s childhood had not been all it should have. 

He was very good at spotting the signs, perhaps better than any other teacher at the school. After all, there were far more children in Slytherin who had difficult childhoods and had suffered abuse, than in any other house. But he had dismissed these signs when it came to this boy; ignored them, as they had not fitted with his image of James Potter’s son and the golden childhood that Severus had created for him in his own mind. This room did not belong to a golden child. It belonged to someone who was not wanted, someone who was very much despised.

Looking round the shabby room, he absorbed the fat man’s dismissal of Potter as some sort of un-natural thing and, just for a second, he felt the weight of the oppressive existence that Potter must have lead. But there was no time right now to think about any of this. He had to revive the boy so that he could send for help, because, when the wards fell, the Death Eaters would attack and there was no way that he would be able to get everyone out of here on his own. 

He could, of course, just leave the Muggles to die, but, notwithstanding the popular belief to the contrary, Severus Snape was an honourable man and despite the fact that he was finding them increasingly odious he was not about to let them suffer. If the Death Eaters got to them, they would indeed die messy and painful deaths and he really did not need any more misery on his conscience.

He was not about stand there to argue with an armful of Potter though so instead he deposited the boy on the pitiful excuse for a bed that they had allowed him to have and turned to face the red faced man and his skinny, horse faced wife.

“You listen to me, you ignorant fool! I really don’t care what you think about Potter. I don’t like the brat very much myself. But the reality is that those men out there are killers, they are bloodthirsty and vicious and would quite happily torture your entire family to death. 

“At midnight the blood wards fall; the sacrifice that his mother made expires then, at his majority. I can get him and the other boy out of here alive, but not you as well. This boy is your only hope of survival, do you understand? And if you are not prepared to help, then get out of my way and we’ll leave you to your fate.

“Now, do you have any analgesics? We need to get his temperature down so that he can help us. Oh, and fetch me some water too. The boy seems to be seriously dehydrated. And two spoons.”

Petunia scrambled off then, obviously the threat of imminent death and torture was all that was needed to galvanise her into action.

“What makes you think he’ll be any use?” The fat uncle asked scathingly, gesturing at Potter’s prone form. “He has never been any good for anything as far as I can see.”

Severus was sure he had said something similar to Albus only a month or so before, but he at least had known that he was being disingenuous. This man truly believed what he was saying.

“Oh, trust me,” Severus drawled, “He does have a talent for getting out of very tricky situations. But keep annoying me, Mr Dursley, as you are doing right now, and I will leave you to your fate.”

“They won’t touch us.” Dursley blustered. “The army will be along in a minute, or the police, they will get rid of that gang of hoodlums.” 

“You just keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better,” Severus sneered, “but keep out of my way.” He had then given the man a none too gentle shove, and closed the door on his fat, ugly features.

Malfoy came in soon after; he had left with the woman to get the pills and the water. She had apparently gone to find some clean bed linen. 

Severus took the pills, without thanks, and placed them in the bowl of one of the spoons. He used the other one to crush them to the finest powder he could manage in the circumstances. He added just a little water to create a paste then turned his attention to the boy lying on the bed. Somehow he had to wake him up to give him the drug. Severus thought that Potter seemed to have a dangerously high temperature and he was very worried that, if they did not cool him down soon, he would start to fit.

He was muttering a little now and Severus worried that the boy was becoming delirious. Severus signalled for Draco to join them and he leaned over to prop Potter up so that they could get the medicine inside him. It obviously hurt his damaged shoulder quite considerably, because the boy groaned and then murmured, “Please Uncle Vernon, it hurts. Don’t hit me again.”

Draco, who had situated himself behind Potter as directed, gasped at this. “Do you think they hit him, Professor?” he asked in a tight, shocked voice.

Severus was about to answer with a sarcastic comment, but then he looked up at Draco’s pale, frightened face and thought better of it. The boy had truly been through an awful lot in the last few weeks and had his whole world turned upside down. He was obviously shocked at Potter’s home circumstances. But then so was he, come to that. Two years ago, during Occlumency, Snape had seen something of this; glimpses of a less than perfect childhood, but he had dismissed them. After all, Potter was such an attention seeking little prick, wasn’t he?

But now he knew that was obviously not the case. Potter had never said a word about this after all, had he?

“Professor?” Draco asked, interrupting his musings.

“I think they have and indeed, a great deal more I suspect. But there is no time for that now. Now we have to get him to wake up, we need him.”

He began to give Malfoy instructions. “Lift him up, hold his chin.” Potter groaned and winced. He must have been in quite a lot of pain from the broken shoulder but there was nothing that Snape could do about it right now. Since he had gone on the run from both sides of the war, he could hardly claim a well-stocked lab any more. Severus forced down a pang of regret. What did his mother always say? “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.” Bloody stupid saying, but it fitted his current situation, he thought wryly.

Bit by bit, between them, they managed to get the unconscious boy to swallow Severus’ concoction. There was a bit of coughing and spluttering, but, on the whole, he managed to keep the medicine down, even if he did pull the most comical faces at the taste.

“I’m going downstairs to get some damp towels. We need to cool him down quickly. Just stay there, I’ll be back in a moment.” Then without caring if Draco was comfortable or not, Severus swept off in search of clean sheets and a towel or two.

 

Harry felt like he was swimming through mud. Hot, sticky mud. He couldn’t breathe properly and he was sure he was feverish. His mouth felt dry, he was so thirsty again. He drifted slowly back to consciousness. He was in someone’s arms! That caused Harry to start with shock. He was never held by anyone, not at any time in his life that he could remember, really. Oh sure, there had been a few hugs with Ginny last term, but this person was holding him gently, just because he was ill. It felt really, really nice.

He opened his eyes, tentatively because his head was so sore, but he couldn’t see whoever it was because they were behind him. He could see robes, dark robes and slim elegant hands He tried to lift his head, but it hurt so much. Whoever was behind him shushed him then, laid a cool hand on his hot head and oh it felt so good that Harry just closed his eyes and enjoyed it for a moment. He leaned back into the firm, warm solidness behind him and just luxuriated in the feeling of being held.

Was this what other people felt when they were ill? This tenderness? This care? He knew he had to get up, he vaguely remembered something about Death Eaters and Snape, had he been here? But just for now, he wasn’t going to think about anything else he was just going to live for the moment. Because Harry was good at that, not asking questions, not wondering why something was the way it was. Just enjoying affection however it came, because he hadn’t had a whole lot of it in his life, had he?

But just then, just as Harry began to wish that this safe warm floaty feeling would go on forever, his bedroom door was flung open and in came Severus Snape, closely followed by Uncle Vernon. Harry couldn’t help himself he groaned.

“M’sorry Uncle Vernon,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to be sick, I’ll clean it up.”

“It’s alright boy, you’re not well. No harm done. Petunia sorted it.”

Harry nearly fell off the bed with shock, but the person behind him just held him more firmly and said, “Steady Potter, you don’t want to hurt that shoulder any more than you already have.”

_Malfoy?_ He had been held by Malfoy, Malfoy had stroked his hair and mopped his brow? Harry decided he had almost certainly gone completely insane with the fever. Yes, that was it. Because there was no way that Malfoy would do anything for Harry other than hex him into mush. His Uncle had not clouted him, or even shouted at him in fact he had been civil and those black wizarding robes were definitely topped by the sneering, sallow face of Severus Snape.

Harry threw himself of the bed and retreated to the corner of his room. If these three individuals, who had spent the majority of his existence trying to make him as miserable as possible, had decided to team up, how the hell was he going to defend himself from all of them, especially in his decidedly weakened state? 

“W..what’s going on?” he asked, pulling himself to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. And then more strongly, “What are you doing here, Professor? …. Are there Death Eaters?”

“I am not going to hurt you, Potter. If I were going to do so I could have managed it far better when you were unconscious.” Snape said calmly and coolly. Harry nearly laughed as his uncle stared at the man with astonishment. 

“You really don’t like him do you?” Vernon said.

“Didn’t you realise, Uncle? They are quite a few people out there who hate me almost as much as you do?” Harry didn’t notice the slightly bitter tone that had crept into his voice, or the glimmer of sympathy that shone in Snape’s eyes. “Is this the first meeting of the ‘The Hate Potter Club’? How nice of you to hold it in my room. So that I could be a part of the proceedings.”

Malfoy’s jaw had dropped. He was still sitting on Harry’s bed and Harry thought with a pang that he really wanted to go back there and lean against him, just like he had been doing, but then he ruthlessly slapped that thought back down and tried concentrate on stopping his legs from wobbling.

“Potter, we do not have time for this, we need to get a message to the Order. There are about fifty Death Eaters out there and we are hopelessly outnumbered.”

Harry looked at his ex potions professor steadily. He hated the man, always would, but he also knew now that Snape was not with Voldemort. For a long time, he had hated him more than he hated Voldemort even. He had gone over Dumbledore’s death time and time again in his head and slowly came to believe that Snape had killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore had asked him to. 

When he changed his approach to that night, he realised that it all fit; Dumbledore wasn’t begging for life. After all, hadn’t he once said that death was but the next great adventure? He had trusted Snape and asked him to kill him. Harry didn’t understand it completely yet but he knew, just knew, that Snape was still, well, if not exactly on his side, then opposed to Voldemort and he was still, Harry was sure, as loyal to Dumbledore as he had always been.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, sagging against the wall with pain. 

Snape gave him a look that was completely unfathomable to Harry. 

“Send a Patronus,” was all he said.

“How do I do it, Professor? How do I send a message?”

“Just think about what you want to say, and conjure it in the normal way.”

“Can you pass me my wand?” Harry asked, “I don’t think I can move. It is under that floorboard.”

Harry really did not like giving up his secrets to Snape, and he didn’t like Uncle Vernon seeing where he had hidden his precious things, but what choice did he have? He knew he would not make it across the room right now, he was feeling sick again and dizzy and the pain was becoming worse. He thought he must have wrenched his shoulder when he had thrown himself from his bed, and Harry had had more than enough broken bones in his life to know what was wrong with his shoulder.

Snape knelt down, and lifted the loose board. He spoke not a word as he gently moved Harry’s cloak and album aside and retrieved the wand. Vernon started spluttering again when he saw Harry’s secrets. About freaks and hocus pocus and how he knew the boy was no good.

Harry ignored him. It wasn’t like the man was saying anything that he hadn’t already heard many times before. He ignored the gasp that Malfoy gave when his Uncle set off the stream of invective and the even louder one that Malfoy and Vernon let out when, having taken his wand from Snape’s outstretched hand, he cast _Expecto Patronum_ and his dull and dreary room lit up with the silvery glow of Harry’s Patronus.


	6. Chapter Six

Thanks Kim, love ya babe

Chapter Six

 

Severus was astonished. It could not believe that the boy had just done his bidding with no arguments or anger. He smirked a bit at Draco’s and the Muggle’s reactions too. The Muggle had surely never seen anything like Potter’s Patronus, and Draco had never seen such a powerful one. Severus hadn’t seen this particular Patronus either; it stood to reason that it would resemble the brat’s father’s animagus form. 

And it was beautiful. It was one of the most striking Patroni that Severus had ever seen, that shining silver stag; tall, graceful, elegant. It bowed once to the one that had cast it and then hurried away. Potter sagged. 

Then Severus had a startling flash of insight: Potter would never have known his father’s animagus form. He never really knew his father either, did he, come to that? He really and truly was not the favoured child that Severus had always thought him to be. And right at this moment, Severus realised how much the boy was struggling. That wall was literally holding him up; he neither looked for nor expected help from anyone. Maybe that was because he was not exactly used to receiving it.

Snape knew all about troubled children, he had been one himself. The boy was not arrogant at all, was he? He was just not used to having anyone to turn to, not with this family as his nearest and dearest. Maybe some at least of Potter’s unfortunate escapades in the past were due to the fact that it had never occurred to him that he _could_ turn to adults, and that an adult would try to help him. From the evidence of Snape’s own eyes it was obvious that nobody in this house had ever gone out of their way to help him with anything.

Petunia Dursley came in right then. “I have the sheets,” she said timorously. 

Harry looked at her with a shocked expression as she said, “I’ll just put them on the bed then, shall I?”

The boy seemed to Severus to collapse in upon himself. “S’okay Aunt Petunia,” he said oh so quietly, “I think we’ll be leaving very soon anyway. No need to waste good sheets.”

The boy had been unconscious earlier, he would not have been able to hear what his uncle had said, but maybe those words would have been no surprise to him. Good sheets, according to the family Dursley, were wasted on Harry Potter and he seemed to just accept that as the way of things in this household. 

“I asked the order to get here as soon as they could, Professor,” Potter said, slumping just a little bit further down the wall as he spoke. “Perhaps we should all be downstairs because it’ll be easier to get us out from down there, we’ll be easy to find and that will save time.”

Severus nodded. The boy was probably right. But he did not think that there was any way that Potter was going to make it downstairs unaided. 

“But what will we do when the Order get here, Professor?” Malfoy asked, with a tinge of panic in his voice.

“It’s okay,” Potter ground out, he was obviously in a lot of pain, and was breathing heavily. Severus suspected that some of his ribs were broken. “They won’t hurt you, either of you. I won’t let them.”

Severus was completely astonished. The boy was defending them? Him and Malfoy? From the moment he had seen the Death Eaters gathered outside, Severus had just about given up on getting out of this particular situation intact. But Potter was offering to help them? Would wonders never cease?

He crossed the room in just two strides; it really was pitifully small, and grabbed Potter just as he was about to slump even further. The boy turned his wide green eyes on him in frank astonishment.

“There is no way you will make it downstairs without help, is there, Potter?” Severus sneered, “And it wouldn’t do to lose you right now, would it? If you are to be of any use to me with the order, then I would rather you were conscious.”

Potter said nothing to this, not one word, but he did lean into Severus who had swept him up into his arms. Severus felt that holding the, albeit barely conscious, boy seemed very different from holding someone who was sleeping and unreactive. 

The boy wrapped his uninjured arm around his Professor’s neck, but awkwardly, as if he really didn’t know what to do with his hands, and maybe Severus thought, he truly didn’t. The boy’s hair was soft against his neck, and once or twice he hitched his breath with what must have been pain as Severus moved out of the room and onto the landing. And Severus felt very strange. Peculiar feelings were stirring in him, feelings of pity, of protectiveness. 

He had always hated this boy with a fierce passion, but, it was almost as if Severus had realised for the first time, he was Lily’s child, her son as much as James’. The child in his arms was blood of Severus’ blood. This boy was his nephew and finally Severus had actually realised that to be truth. Holding him like this, being trusted by a child whom he believed returned his hatred with interest, was something that he could not explain or understand but it touched him. He knew that if they got out of this alive his feelings would have changed irrevocably but he didn’t know how or what that change would mean and with half of Voldemort’s Death Eaters currently camped on the front lawn, he really didn’t have time to examine these strange new feelings right now.

He was followed downstairs by a small procession; Draco, and Petunia and Vernon Dursley. The cousin, David? Dermot? was sitting at the kitchen table spooning ice cream straight from the container into a gaping, needy maw. Petunia pushed passed him causing Potter to hiss with pain.

“Oh Dudders, darling. You must be so anxious my lamb. Poor lamb. What has this dreadful boy brought upon us all?” She started to wail, “Oh God, from the first moment he crossed our threshold he was nothing but trouble. Lazy, stupid, clingy. What did we do to deserve such freakishness thrust upon us?” She had clutched ‘Dudders’ head to her rather scrawny bosom and was stroking his hair as if he were a baby.

“It’s all your fault, you useless little worm!” she screeched, turning on Potter, bellowing at him, face red, spitting her words viciously. Severus flinched, so nasty was this diatribe. But Potter seemed completely unperturbed, he just murmured, “I know, I’m sorry,” and Severus did not like that at all. He did not like the sound of defeat that seemed evident in the boy. But perhaps it was not defeat, perhaps it was resignation? Whatever it was, he needed the boy to be strong right now, so he turned to the screeching harpy who had started to list Potter’s supposed faults and failures and said, “That will do! Sit down and shut up or I will silence you.”

“S’alright, Professor,” Potter muttered, “She’s upset, and it isn’t as if I haven’t heard it all before.” Malfoy let out a strangled gasp at that statement and Severus could guess his thoughts. To hear this dreadful woman address The Saviour of The Wizarding World in this way was astonishing, especially as both he and Draco had previously been convinced that the boy was worshiped wherever he went. He gently lowered Potter on to the sofa, only to be astonished once again when Petunia started shouting about how Potter was not allowed to sit on the furniture. And he was truly lost for words when the boy quietly, and without any fuss, just slipped to the floor. 

Suddenly, all hell broke loose outside. There was shouting and explosions and flashes of light from all the spells that were being fired. The Order had arrived.

Potter was struggling to his feet. “Do you think they need our help, Professor?” he asked. His voice was strained, he was obviously in a great deal of pain now. The pills that Severus had given him would have barely taken the edge off whatever he was feeling. 

“No, I do not.” Severus replied, “All of the order members are good dualists and you would only get in the way right now. Your job, Mr Potter, is to stay safe in here.”

The door burst open just then and Arthur Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin fell through. The Dursleys all leapt back in fright, but Potter, who had somehow managed to scramble to his feet unaided just smiled. “Hi,” he said, “Thanks for coming to the rescue.” But the order members weren’t smiling. They all had their wands out and were pointing them at Snape and Malfoy. 

“S’okay, Professor Lupin, Mr Weasley, Tonks. Professor Snape and Malfoy are on our side.” Potter had his wand out too. He had moved, rather stiffly from his position by the sofa, to act as a sort of shield for Severus and Malfoy. He had his wand hand extended and his other arm wrapped protectively around his obviously tender ribs.

“Harry,” Weasley spat, “The man is a Death Eater. He killed Albus.”

Severus was surprised to feel hurt at Arthur’s attitude. Of course he knew what they all thought of him, but he and Weasley had always got on fairly well. There had been a sort of comradeship between them. There had also been mutual respect and it saddened him to think that that no longer existed because of the awful deed that he had been bound to carry out. He truly did not care what the werewolf or his somewhat scruffy girlfriend thought, but Weasley, Arthur, had almost been a friend. 

“I know what happened, Mr Weasley,” Potter ground out, “I was there, remember? I saw everything.”

Severus was shocked and Malfoy, who was cowering behind him, gave an audible gasp. He had known that Potter had caught up with them quite quickly that night, but to think that he had witnessed everything, been present for Albus’ death. That thought made Severus feel cold to the very depths of himself. Potter _knew_ everything. He had seen Albus’ death, Snape’s own anger, Malfoy’s near surrender.

“I think that Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it, but. I need to….”

Potter didn’t finish, he started to pant, his knees were giving out on him and he began to collapse.

Severus and Weasley both moved forwards together, but Severus got there first. 

Potter sort of slumped against him, breathing really hard, obviously trying to ride out the pain. The boy also radiated heat. It was pouring off him and Severus thought that if he didn’t get a potion inside him pretty soon, they were going to lose him.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Tonks shouted.

“He has magic fever and a number of injuries that need to be looked at.” Severus replied. 

“Magic fever?” Weasley asked, just as Lupin said, “Injuries, what injuries? Has he been in a battle with the Death Eaters?”

“Oh no,” Severus drawled, “He got these particular bruises much closer to home.”

The newcomers just stared at him, confused. Until Weasley turned to Vernon Dursley and said, “Did you hurt him? Did you hurt Harry?” His voice held quiet fury, it trembled with anger. 

Tonk’s eyes widened, “Wha...” she began, but Severus cut her off. “There will be time for this later, right now we have to get him out of here. He is….not well.”

“Please, Mr Weasley,” Potter muttered, “We do need to get everyone out, the wards will fall soon, and then they’ll all be in here and we lose, please sir. Just trust me.”

Weasley exchanged glances with Lupin and then nodded tightly.

“We trust you, Harry,” he said, “We’ll take Snape and Malfoy with us. We have a portkey that Minerva created. But to get us out whilst the wards are still up, we need to add blood to it. Your blood, and the blood of your Aunt.”

Petunia Dursley started at this, “You are not having my blood!” she shouted, “for your wicked Voodoo magic.”

“Oh yes we are,” Severus drawled, “Either you give some willingly or I would be quite happy to take some by force.” She gave an undignified squeak at this and Weasley looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Get on with it then.” Severus said.

Tonks produced an empty muggle drinks bottle from a capacious pocket and held it out as Lupin came forward with a needle. He gently took Potter’s hand in his own and pricked the boy’s finger and then just as gently laid it against the bottle so that a few drops fell on the glass. There was a sizzling noise and the blood was absorbed in an instant. He then repeated the procedure with Petunia Dursley. She, in contrast to Potter, yelped in pain and then shuddered violently, complaining loudly about freaks and how they all deserved to be put down.

Potter seemed to be fast losing his battle with consciousness and Severus realised, to his great surprise, that he was worried for the boy. Not in his usual rather clinical way, a concern for the safety of the tool that would defeat Voldemort, but for the child himself. The boy who had not uttered a single complaint, despite being in very obvious pain, and whom had just defended him and Malfoy to the Order, despite having seen everything that happened the night that Albus died.

Tonks and Lupin manoeuvred the Dursleys so that they were able to each place a finger on the bottle. The werewolf was explaining what was about to happen and Vernon Dursley was loudly denouncing all things magical, even as he was obviously ready to embrace magic enough to save the miserable lives of himself and his family. Lupin then took his place beside Malfoy, who stiffened as the man linked his arm with him and then peered timidly up at the werewolf through his long silky lashes. Tonks said, “Portus,” and they prepared to be whisked away. 

Nothing happened.

For a moment or two there was general confusion, Dursley was decrying the uselessness of magic and furthermore the uselessness of the entire party, Weasley looked confused and Lupin looked somewhat desperate. He alone seemed to realise how quickly Potter was deteriorating. Potter had lost consciousness completely now and was just slumped in Severus’ arms, his breathing laboured, his temperature rising by the minute. 

In desperation Severus freed one of his arms, supporting Potter with the other. He removed his finger from the Portkey put his hand in his pocket and found his penknife. His mother had given this instrument to him, years ago now, it was imbued with Stay-Sharp spells and Lose-Me-Not spells and Severus used it for collecting plant ingredients for potions. 

He had a hunch. He wondered if the wards were too strong to let them through, it was just possible that Petunia’s blood was not closely linked enough to Lily’s to let them pass through the immensely strong blood protection. Maybe, just maybe, his blood was needed too, and if he was right, well he didn’t want to think about that right now either. He gently opened the knife and pressed his index finger to the blade tip, he then removed his hand from his pocket and replaced it on the bottle. Luckily everyone was shouting so loudly, that they did not hear the hiss or see the small flash of light or notice the fact that the object juddered.

He cleared his throat. “Um, maybe it just takes a minute or two for the Portkey to absorb the blood, I think we should try again.” Everyone stopped shouting and looked at him, Lupin narrowed his eyes and said.

“It should be instantaneous, that sort of magic. Have you done something Snape?”

Severus just met the werewolf’s gaze and said, “What do you think I’ve done now, Lupin?” Their eyes locked for a couple of seconds longer and this time Lupin said the activation spell. Severus felt the familiar tug around his navel and they were whisked away from Privet Drive. 

They spun through space on their frenetic journey, whirling, turning. Upright one minute upside down the next, as the world sped past blended into a seemingly never-ending stream of blurred colour. 

Then, long before they arrived at their destination, Potter let out a small groan and started to convulse.


	7. Chapter Seven

This is it till after the holidays, just a short chapter this time. Thanks to my darling Kim for betaing. Happy holidays everyone.

 

The whirling journey of the Portkey deposited them in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. So violent was their arrival that even Severus stumbled and nearly fell. A second later, the stunned occupants who witnessed their appearance sprang into action at the sight of the new arrivals. There were shouts and the whispers and swishes as countless wands were produced and pointed at himself and Draco. But Severus was ignoring them. There was simply no time to explain. If he didn’t get Potter cooled down quickly, they might well end up losing him.

He let the chaos carry on unabated around him and crouched down, hurriedly stripping the boy as fast as he could, whilst simultaneously casting cooling charms. The shouts around him grew louder and more insistent and all the while his back was guarded by Lupin and Arthur Weasley, who were scrupulously keeping their word to Potter and protecting him. Snape the enemy, the traitor, the man who killed Dumbledore, they steadfastly defended him from all comers, from all those who were jostling to get to him, shouting dire threats and warning of his treachery. 

“That’s Snape, Arthur. Get him away from Harry!”

“Oh, by Merlin, Harry, what’s going on?”

“Harry, Harry, what’s he doing? It’s Snape, save Harry.”

“It’s the traitor, he killed Dumbledore!”

“He’ll be sorry when I get my hands on him.”

“I am going to kill the bastard!”

Finally, after struggling with the convulsing boy, Severus got Potter down to nothing but his boxer shorts and the room fell completely silent. The boy had obviously been severely beaten and not just once, he was covered in bruises. Dark purple marks spread over his ribs. Yellowing finger-shaped ones decorated his upper arms, a testament to earlier cruelty. There were stripes across his thighs that told of a recent whipping and his shoulder was swelling rapidly and already puffy in appearance. 

“Cold water, quickly,” Severus shouted, “and a clean cloth. He’s having a seizure. I have to cool him down.” Seconds later a bowl of clean water and a small towel were pressed into his hands and he proceeded to gently mop the boy’s face and torso, removing the sweat that formed a sheen coating his limbs, continuing to try to reduce Potter’s soaring temperature.

No one spoke. The room was almost completely silent as everyone watched Severus working, desperately, frantically trying to save Potter’s life. The only sound was the rasping, juddering breaths that Potter was producing. He was delirious and obviously in pain. If Severus couldn’t calm him down, make him cooler, Harry Potter was going to die right here on the cold, stone floor of his godfather’s house.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Potter stopped thrashing. His breathing slowed, his eyes flickered open and the bright green irises rolled back until only white could be seen. Then, all at once, the boy, who had been so violently animated only seconds before, sagged into utter stillness.

Every single person in the room seemed to still their breathing in sympathy with the boy, but for a few seconds Potter laid crumpled and oh so small in Severus’ arms. Finally, after an eternity, the boy drew in a trembling breath and everyone else sighed in relief.

Then the questions flew thick and fast.

“What’s going on?”

“Was Harry tortured?”

“Was it Death Eaters?” 

Malfoy spoke for the first time, “It was them,” he said. “They did it.” 

Severus looked up for the first time since he had arrived and saw that the room was full of people: Moody, Shacklebolt, Minerva, Granger, the odious Fletcher and about 15,000 Weasleys. Draco was pointing at the Dursleys and the gathered throng was staring at the cowering family in shock. Tonks was standing close to them. She had her wand pointed in their direction, and had obviously cast a silencing spell, because Vernon Dursley was gesticulating and opening and closing his mouth, surprised at the lack of sound.

Potter had slumped against Severus and now that the fever had broken, the boy was rapidly becoming chilled. Severus tore off his cloak, startling everyone again, and wrapped it round Potter. “We need to get him to bed. He is still very unwell,” he said, standing up awkwardly with the boy still held in his arms. Molly Weasley came forward. She put her hand on his arm and said in a soft voice,

“Come on Severus, follow me.” And she led him upstairs towards one of the many shabby bedrooms in this accursed house.

Only it wasn’t so shabby anymore, was it? Someone had obviously been working on the place, brightening it up with paint and new flooring; Severus wondered who had bothered with a frippery such as decorating, at a time when their lives hung in the balance. But the boy he was carrying groaned and then Severus focused his attention on him instead and, momentarily, they were in the bedroom. Molly had pulled back the covers on an ornately carved single bed, gesturing for Severus to lower Potter to the mattress, so Severus did just that. 

He was strangely reluctant to leave the boy. He could tolerate him quite well, he thought, when he spent so much time unconscious. Then he shook himself, and found that he almost felt ashamed. Harry Potter had nearly died tonight and Severus needed him alive, they all did. He had a date with the Dark Lord after all, and Eileen would kill him herself if he came back without her eagerly awaited grandson. For a moment he almost felt resentful, and then he thought back to earlier today when he had not yet reached the house at which Potter had endured his childhood. He had felt jealous then, of all that he imagined had been showered on the boy. However, an awful lot of Severus’ assumptions had died that day, hadn’t they? He now realised that, compared to the Boy-Who-Lived, he, Severus, was actually blessed. Eileen had loved him, always. Supported him through the little sorrows and the few joys and didn’t even turn away when he had become a Death Eater. Whatever happened, he was her son and she cherished him.

Molly was clucking and cooing like the mother hen she was and finally she shooed him from the room.

“I think you have some explaining to do downstairs, don’t you Severus?” she said in her usual bossy tone, edging him towards the door. But she softened her words with a gentle smile, “Send Ginny up, won’t you? I’ll need some things brought along,” She lifted her hand to his face and cupped his cheek gently. “Thank you for saving him,” she said and firmly shut the door in his face.

He walked back downstairs like a condemned man heading for execution. He could hear raised voices but, when he opened the kitchen door, the room once more fell silent. Every single eye in the room was trained on him, demanding explanation, seeking reassurance.

“I think he will be alright now, he is sleeping. Miss Weasley, I do believe your mother requires your assistance if you would be so kind.”

The red headed girl gave a squeak and hurried from the room, obviously delighted to be able to minister to her beloved hero. Then the werewolf addressed him. “Severus, I think we have a lot to discuss.”

 

It was now after 2am, and the evening had been one of the longest and most tiring that Severus had ever endured. The house was finally quiet. He sat in a chair by the dying fire, finally, blessedly alone. The questioning had gone on for hours. Accusations had been thrown, sharp words exchanged but, in a way, it had all been cathartic and Severus had found a strange sort of peace.

The Dursleys had been apoplectic about their treatment. Vernon Dursley had charged around like an enraged bull and thin, scrawny Petunia had screeched and wailed like one of the Sorrows. Slowly every thing, every little detail of the past few months had been discussed. 

Potter’s treatment had merited seemingly endless discussion. Dumbledore had known about the boy’s childhood situation, so Petunia had insisted. She’d pointed out that his first letter from Hogwarts had even been addressed to ‘The Cupboard Under the Stairs.’ She further suggested that Dumbledore’s chastisement the previous summer had served to inflame her husband’s temper. Molly had been in the kitchen by then. She had finally been dragged away from Potter’s bedside when Poppy Pomfrey arrived, and had proceeded to make dinner for the gathered throng. Potter’s peculiar house elf had appeared from nowhere and insisted on helping. The Weasley matriarch had had to be forcibly restrained as she threatened to hex Potter’s aunt into oblivion. 

Severus had been tempted to point out that she wasn’t actually his aunt, but had thought that enough revelations had been thrust upon them for one night and, after all, Potter should the first know about their relationship. Well apart from Malfoy, that was.

Molly had ended her diatribe against the Dursley family by suggesting that if Albus had still been alive, she may well have killed him herself for allowing her surrogate son to endure such treatment as the Dursleys meted out.

But everyone had been shocked, really, by the extent of the abuse that the boy had suffered, for that is surely what it was. Each of them had seen little things over the years, or been told things by Potter, but had dismissed or ignored these clues. The twins had torn bars from his window. Granger and Ron Weasley had sent him food. Severus had seen his memories and he shuddered anew at the thought of the worn mattress he had seen in the cupboard under the stairs. This would need to be discussed at length when the boy awoke.

More speculation was useless right now, Severus decided. At least he and Malfoy were safe for the moment. The Order were still not sure whether or not to believe him when he told them of Albus’ plan to get Severus closer to the Dark Lord, but his revelation about what had happened to Malfoy made them realise that Severus was sincerely on their side, even if they did remove his and Malfoy’s wands, ‘just as a precaution’.

So much depended on the reactions of a child, a boy who had suffered abuse and hatred, who had repeatedly been pitted against evil and who may or may not have suffered brain damage whilst enduring those convulsions earlier.

Severus drained his tea. It seemed that he was sharing a room with Malfoy and Lupin. The house was full to bursting with people, and every room, except for the kitchen, was filled with makeshift beds of one sort or another. He stood up, feeling sore and stiff and bone-achingly tired. As to what was going to happen next, that would be revealed soon enough and Severus headed upstairs knowing that whatever tomorrow would bring, he, Severus, would have no more say in matters than he had ever had.


	8. Chapter Eight

Thanks to Kim and TQA for looking this over. Next chapter of FSR in the next few days

 

Chapter Eight

Harry wasn’t sure where he was when he awoke. His head was so sore, that he had to open his eyes really slowly because even the diffused light in this place, wherever it was, seemed too much and it hurt! Without his glasses everything was blurry but, after peering around for a moment or two, Harry was pretty convinced that he was at Grimmauld Place. 

He and Ron had been doing the odd bit of decorating to make the place look just a bit more homely. Harry had found it really difficult coming back here at the beginning of the summer holidays; it just reminded him too much of Sirius. Once his godfather had died, Harry knew that his one chance of ever having a real home had died along with him. But he had also decided that, for whatever time he had left, he was going to try and make his surroundings just that little bit nicer, just that little bit more welcoming.

Harry had no idea where his glasses were. He had vague memories of Privet Drive and Snape and a fever. But before he could investigate to find out what had happened, he needed the loo. So, he swung his legs out of bed and tentatively stood up. He at once felt sick and woozy, but Harry was used to discomfort and so he took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and headed for where the door would be if this was indeed Grimmauld.

Ten minutes later, Harry knew that his assessment had been right. He had made his bladder a lot more comfortable and had then set off downstairs in search of some answers. He had had to roll up his pyjama bottoms, as they were far too big for him. They were old and faded and probably Ron’s, which made Harry think that Mrs Weasley had been here at some point at least. But right now he really needed something to drink, so he headed for the kitchen where liquid refreshment and the answers he was looking for were most likely to be found. So he held tight to the banister rail and somewhat shakily made his way downstairs.

He was somewhat taken aback to see that the kitchen was full of people. Luckily none of them seemed to have noticed him yet, so he started to back cautiously out again when Hermione turned away from her discussion with Remus and saw him.

“Harry!” she said. “Oh Harry, you are awake.”

Every eye turned to look at him and Harry felt like cringing, but instead he hitched up his pyjama bottoms, which had slid rather low on his hips and limped forward into the room.

“Er, hi,” he said.

 

Severus saw Harry enter the room a moment or two before Hermione did. Without his glasses, the boy seemed ridiculously young. He easily could have passed for a fourteen year old. He seemed to have too slender a frame to take on the weight of the hopes of the wizarding world, too fragile by half. Severus saw the boy’s eyes widen when he realised how many people were there to greet his arrival, but he also saw him square his shoulders and march – well, limp- right in, regardless of how bothered he was by the reception committee.

For three days, the boy had hovered between life and death, and Severus had sat with him for much of that time: Heard him crying in his delirium, begging his uncle not to hit him any more, begging Sirius Black to not be dead, sobbing softly as he heard Voldemort killing his mother time after time. And somewhere over those three days, the boy had stopped being Potter and become Harry. Just Harry.

Severus, Molly, Arthur, Lupin, they had all taken their turn sitting by his bedside and he knew that each and every one of them felt differently about the boy than they had merely a few days before. He had displayed a vulnerability that none of them had noticed before. All too late they had realised that the boy was just that, a child with too many expectations to fulfil.

But he was trying, Severus had to hand him that. He had raised his chin and walked into that room as if he had just been asleep for a few hours, rather than flirting with death for several days. He could only have been left alone for a few minutes; Ginny Weasley had been on sentry duty, and must have wandered off for a moment or two because Harry should not be down here. They should have been alerted that he was awake. She would surely pay for her inattention when her mother caught up with her later on. 

A meeting of the Order had been called to decide what to do if the boy did not wake up soon. But it seemed like the reason for the panic was over for now, because here he was on his feet, even if he did still look rather battered and bruised.

“I’ve, em, I need a drink of water?” Harry said, and that galvanised the room into action. The boy was whisked into a chair close to the long pine table around which many of them were sitting.

“What are you doing out of bed, Harry? You should be resting.” Molly was scolding him, “We’ll get you some water and then we’ll get you back upstairs.”

Lupin and Arthur were busily shooing a number of people from the room, promising updates on Harry’s condition and the boy was sitting in the middle of all this confusion, looking, well, looking rather confused.

He drank the water calmly enough but then as the crowd disbursed a bit he turned to Hermione and said, “What’s wrong Hermione? Has something happened? What was everyone doing here?”

She sat down rather heavily beside him and said, “We were worried about you, Harry. You nearly died.” 

Harry just looked at her, his confusion hardly lessened, “What again?”

Severus spoke now, “You had magic fever, Harry, triggered by your powers becoming fully active. You should have been resting; someone should have been taking care of you. The unusual strength of your sudden increase of ability combined with the neglect that you have been suffering almost proved fatal. All of that was even more exacerbated by the, er, abuse that you suffered.”

Harry looked perplexed.

“Erm Professor Snape,” he said, “What are you talking about?”

Severus felt annoyed. He had been harbouring feelings towards Harry that were almost familial, but, within seconds of their first conversation, he was remembering just why Potter annoyed him so much. The boy was so arrogant, he just did not listen.

There were just a few of them left in the room now: himself, Arthur and Molly, the werewolf, Granger and Weasley, and almost unnoticed, huddled in a corner, Draco Malfoy.

“Surely even you could not be so arrogant that you would ignore the fact that you should have been resting when the full strength of your magic emerged at your majority?” Severus commented snottily.

Harry placed both his hands on the table and spread them in front of himself, almost as if he was gathering strength and took a deep breath. “I am sorry,” he muttered, “I just don’t understand. What extra magic? Didn’t I already have all the magic I am meant to get?”

Severus was appalled. Obviously he was not the only one, as Arthur said, “Harry, did Albus not warn you that this might happen when your magic came in? Most children they just have a small temperature and feel a bit queasy, but plenty of fluids and a day of rest and they are fine. But you are not most children, Harry. From the occasional flashes of strength that you have displayed, it was a forgone conclusion within the Order that your magic would come in strongly. Did no one tell you this?”

From the look of confusion on Harry’s face it was obvious that nobody had thought to even mention to Harry that a magical fever was a possibility. Hermione looked a bit shame faced, “Didn’t you notice when my magic came in, Harry? Ron’s transition was much simpler, but I was away for a whole day, back in September.”

Harry blushed and stared at the table before hanging his head and muttering, “I thought it was something about being a girl, you know, you are away from class sometimes, every couple of months.”

There was a stunned silence at this comment as they all realised that Harry truly had not known that some wizarding children only reached their full magical capacity on or around their seventeenth birthday and nobody saw fit to warn him of this, not even Albus.

“Oh Harry!” Molly said. Severus could read her expression quite clearly; she obviously thought that this was yet one more instance when those who were supposed to have been supporting him had let him down. The tragic thing was she was right.

“S’alright, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said, smiling at her reassuringly. “I’m fine now.”

“But you almost weren’t, you foolish boy!” Severus found himself saying, “Do you not understand, Harry? You could have died!”

Harry’s green eyes looked at Severus in complete astonishment.

“So?” he said. “It wouldn’t have been the first time. What’s wrong, Professor? Worried that you nearly lost your weapon? Because you didn’t, I’m fine and why do you keep calling me ‘Harry’?”

“Harry!” Remus was shocked. “You are more to us than merely a weapon. We were worried about you. We have taken it in turns to sit by your bedside. Severus has taken his turn also. He really is on our side, Harry, and we all care about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Well, that’s very kind of you all,” he said evenly, “I know Professor Snape’s on our side. I told you, remember. But what made you all care about me all of a sudden? No one did before.” 

The adults in the room all looked rather stung by that comment.

“Look,” Harry said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have ‘nearly died’ quite a few times in the past and no one ever came to sit beside me before. When Sirius died,” here his voice cracked somewhat, “When Sirius died, I wanted to die too. You weren’t there then, why should you care so much now?”

“We thought you were with loving relatives then, Harry.” Lupin said rather sadly.

Harry snorted.

“We do know differently now though,” Lupin continued, “When we brought you back, Severus had to strip you down to your boxers and we saw, we saw..”

“Just what do you think you saw, Professor?” Harry spat. He had gone quite white, he was trembling with emotion, “You saw a few bruises, so what?”

“Harry!” Molly exclaimed, “There were far worse injuries than just a few bruises. You had a broken shoulder, cracked ribs. You were beaten, Harry, weren’t you? Harry you were being abused!”

Harry snorted again and this time he shrugged too, wincing slightly as his shoulder was obviously still a bit sore.

“I’ve had worse!” Every one drew in a sharp breath when Harry said that, and he looked around at them all glaring somewhat. “What does it matter now anyway? I’m seventeen. I don’t ever have to go back.” Then he looked around the room again “Where are the Dursley’s anyway? Are they okay?”

Severus was stunned yet again. The Dursleys had almost cheerfully admitted hitting and neglecting Harry. The boy himself asserted that he had had far worse beatings from them than the ones that had produced the bruises that they had all witnessed, and the awful thing was Severus now knew that the boy was not exaggerating in any way. Yet he still asked after their safety, this odious family to whom he owed nothing.

“Don’t change the subject, boy,” Severus hissed, noticing with a pang that Harry flinched at his last word. He calmed himself, “I am sorry, I did not mean to shout at you, Harry, but we have all been worried.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he stared at Severus as if he had gone completely mad. 

“Um, Professor Snape, has somebody hexed you or something? Because you are still calling me Harry and that sounded a lot like an apology to me. I mean, I know you helped me and everything back at Aunt Petunia’s house. Um, at least I think you did?” He peered at Severus for confirmation and when Severus nodded he continued, “So really, I should be saying thank you, but I don’t understand. I mean you hate me, don’t you? Why would _you_ be worried?”

Severus felt ashamed. He had been haranguing the boy as usual. He had once again assumed that Harry had been ignoring his own safety when it was obvious now that Harry had no idea about the changes that his magic was about to undergo. He also seemed to have no expectation that he would receive anything other than hatred at his relatives’ house, and that their hatred would be expressed by his uncle’s fists and whatever kitchen implement his aunt could lay her hands on.

“We didn’t know, Harry.” Molly said, “None of us did. We would not have allowed you to go back to…to such treatment.”

Harry laughed bitterly. “Oh, please, Mrs Weasley,” he said, looking wryly amused, “Professor Dumbledore knew. Oh, not the details, I’m sure, but he knew how unhappy I was. You, Professor Snape, you saw my memories when you were teaching me….” He broke off for a moment, and swallowed hard, when he continued his voice was infinitely sad, “When I wouldn’t learn Occlumency.” 

If it were possible he looked even sadder then when he continued.

“Didn’t you think it strange that I would happily go and live with a man whom I had only known for half an hour, Professor Lupin, just because he asked me?” And now he looked Molly Weasley in the eye. “You sent me food, Mrs Weasley, and you know that the twins got me out in second year when the Dursleys locked me in my room for the whole summer and starved me. That was hard, harder than a few bruises; I was really lonely and hungry that year. The bars from my window are still in your big shed.” 

Both Molly and Arthur’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh Harry,” Molly said sorrowfully, “We truly didn’t know. They locked you in your room? We just thought that your cousin was on some sort of diet. I never knew where the bars came from.” Arthur interjected this time, “Fred and George said something,” he was commenting, “but I thought it was just a joke, I mean nobody would lock a child in a room and starv…” He looked at Harry then, a look of horror growing on his face, “By Merlin, they did, didn’t they?”

Everyone looked stunned at this comment, even Ron who had surely witnessed the event. Hermione was sobbing softly with her head on the Weasley boy’s shoulder.

“We didn’t realise Harry,” Ron said, “We thought it was an adventure, you know?”

But Harry had had enough.

“It doesn’t matter!” he said irritably. “It’s over now. I am never going back.” He was looking decidedly pale and wobbly again. This whole situation was obviously proving to be rather a trial and Severus felt another of those pangs of guilt that he was becoming accustomed to when dealing with the boy. “Are they okay, though?” Harry was saying, “Please tell me. No one got hurt when the Death Eaters came because of me, did they?”

“No, Harry, no one got hurt. Not even the Dursleys,” Severus said, getting to his feet, although he left the thought unsaid that the Dursleys deserved a whole world of hurt, in his opinion at least. “But you look completely exhausted right now. I am going to take you back to your bed. Molly will bring you some soup, and later, when you have slept, you and I, _Harry_ are going to have a very long talk.” 

It was a mark of how exhausted the boy must be feeling that he did not protest when Severus swept him into his arms and started towards the door. 

He had not gone very far when it suddenly burst open and Ginny Weasley came running in.

“Mum, Mum, I just went to see Dean for a little bit and when I got back Harry was gone, he is missing Mum!” She stopped abruptly when she saw Severus. “Oh!” she said. Severus couldn’t help himself he grinned rather evilly.

“Ah Ginevra, I rather think you have some explaining to do.” he said. And with that he swept out of the room with a very puzzled Harry Potter held safely in his arms, followed closely by his perpetual shadow, Draco Malfoy.


	9. Chapter Nine

Thanks to Kim the super beta and my darling TQA for getting my back!

 

Chapter Nine

Harry was pretending to be asleep. He had done quite a lot of that recently, because the adults around him were, quite frankly, freaking him out. They had been very protective of him; Mrs Weasley kept hugging him and stuffing him full of food and Mr Weasley and Professor Lupin (“Please call me Remus, Harry. I am not your teacher any longer. I would like it if you considered me as a friend.”), kept trying to have serious conversations with him. But the problem was that Harry really did not want to have those conversations with them, not now, not ever, really. And he did not know how they would react if he asked them about the things that _were_ troubling him. ‘Probably throw me out of the house,’ he thought sadly.

A couple of years ago, hell, even last year, Harry would have been delighted to have someone, anyone, well any adult at least, show this much interest in his life. But as far as Harry was concerned now it would be too little, too late. He just didn’t have time for this anymore. He had the other horcruxes to find, he had Voldemort to hunt down. Although Harry suspected when the time came that he wouldn’t have to hunt too much. And he had a life to lead. He had things he wanted to do before it was too late and the guilt ridden Order members were stopping him being where he wanted to be, which sure as heck wasn’t here!

Dumbledore’s death had changed things for Harry. He no longer felt like he was a child; he couldn’t be really, could he? When the Headmaster was alive, Harry could have turned to him. Even if he didn’t altogether trust him, he did love him. The Headmaster had shown more interest in Harry than any other adult ever had, and didn’t that make him pathetic that he loved the old man so much? Harry knew that Dumbledore’s love was flawed. He had gotten so many things wrong, but he had cared for Harry, hadn’t he? He had been proud of him, he’d said so, and that meant more to Harry than he could ever say. The old wizard might not have been perfect, hell, he had been far from perfect as far as loving, protective mentors go, but Harry had never been picky; he would take what he could get.

He had done some serious thinking this summer. Hermione had been researching and before she located more Horcruxes, he and Ron were at a bit of a loose end, hence the decorating and plenty of time for serious contemplation. The Dursleys just offered even more chance to be alone with his thoughts, so Harry had come to a number of conclusions. 

First of all he decided that it was far too late for him to think about having a family. It would have been nice, it really would, but it was too late now, he was grown up. Deep down he also couldn’t help thinking that there must be something inherently unlovable about him, but that hurt so he tried to ignore the part of him that insisted that that was the case. The trouble was he had realised that his interest in Ginny was all tied up with this seeking-a-family thing that he had. She smelt of home. She had red hair like his Mum, like Mrs Weasley. Perhaps red hair said _’home’_ to Harry. They could have had children together, lots of children and he would have finally had somewhere to go where people loved him, the one thing he had always envied Ron.

When he had realised this, he had also realised that he hadn’t really fancied Ginny that much. He had loved to hold her. He had adored the hugs and the tenderness, but Harry knew that he was rather starved in that direction and he enjoyed a hug from Hermione or Ron almost as much. When he really thought about it, Harry realised that in fact he didn’t really fancy girls at all. He didn’t get ‘turned on’ by Lavender Brown like Ron and the other boys had been, although he could see in an abstract sort of way that she was quite pretty. When he tried to picture people that he had fancied in his head all he could come up with were boys. 

There was Cho, of course there was Cho, but she had been really boyish, hadn’t she? And one face that came back to him time and time again was Cedric. Surely he hadn’t fancied Cedric? Was that why he had been so upset for so very long about the boy’s death? Even more upset than he had been about Sirius in some ways? 

Then there had been Oliver Wood, whom Harry had had a crush on in first year, and later Charlie Weasley. Charlie the dragon tamer had hard muscles and a laid back air that appealed to Harry. Lately, why lately, ever since he had found himself leaning against him on his bed, being soothed by smooth, cool fingers, Harry found himself thinking about Malfoy, and that really bothered him. Could he possibly fancy the ferret? 

With all his musings over the past few months he kept coming to the same conclusion: That he was gay; helplessly screamingly, definitely gay. 

Or maybe he was bi? But how did you know things like that anyway? He didn’t know what to do about his new feelings. He wanted to ask someone, get some advice but there simply wasn’t anyone he could ask. Wasn’t that just typical of his life? He thought ruefully to himself, apart from that short period when he had had Sirius he had never really had anyone to ask about anything personal and that just made him sad. Even Dumbledore who had given so much advice in the past, had said he would always keep an open door for him would have been no help with this particular worry. Harry could not ever imagine broaching _this_ subject with the man.

There was no way he could ask Hermione and Ron about it either. They had each other and if they weren’t sure about something, if something hurt them then they asked their parents and their parents would love them no matter what. Harry was afraid to ask his friends about his sexuality. What if they hated him? What if they didn’t want to be with him anymore? What if they felt the same way about homosexuality as his uncle did? What if everyone in the wizarding world did? Harry didn’t know if his uncle was as bigoted about this as he was about so much else. Maybe other people didn’t feel the same way, maybe they wouldn’t mind, but how was Harry to know? How could he take the risk? 

Harry didn’t really know how the magical world felt about homosexuality. He knew how the Muggle world felt, well some of it at least. Dudley’s friends had spent a lot of time calling Harry the sort of names bullies loved to use on smaller weaker boys: pouf, queer, pansy, ponce. But maybe their attitude wasn’t common? Harry just didn’t know anyone who was gay who he could ask, or if he did, he didn’t know that they were gay. If anyone at school was, Harry hadn’t noticed. He had been too busy following Malfoy around all last term and that in itself was rather gay when he thought about it later. 

Harry had imagined various scenarios where he had spoken to people that he knew and what their reactions would be. The most favourable candidates were Tonks or one of Ron’s brothers. But what if they were disgusted by him and then told the rest of the family (the Weasleys), or Remus (Tonks) and they rejected him too? Harry didn’t think he could bear it if the friends he had made turned away. 

Were so-called heroes even allowed to be gay?

He had to deal with this on his own, just like he had had to deal with everything else in his life and the fact that the adults in the house kept telling him that they would look after him and help him that they were “there for him.” Why, that just showed Harry how truly alone he was.

How could he discuss the things that were really bothering him with any of them, really? He could imagine how he might ask the questions.

‘I have to find horcruxes, which just happen to be bits of Voldemort’s soul, created when he murders people, any suggestions on destroying them?’ But Dumbledore had made him promise not to share that piece of news with any adults. 

‘I have to kill an evil wizard and I’m really, really frightened about dying. I don’t want to die. I want to live and grow up and have some one love me.’ 

Didn’t that just sound needy and pathetic?

Oh yes, and the final juicy worry. ‘I think that I am probably as camp as a row of tents but I don’t want to die a virgin. What shall I do?’ 

The very thought of what they might say, how they might react made Harry cringe, and their responses to the Dursleys and Harry’s childhood confirmed Harry’s suspicions really. They were sorry, they didn’t know, they would make things better. But they couldn’t make things better, could they? It was far too late for that all that, in his opinion. All that could be done now, as far as Harry could see, was to put everything behind him and move on. Trying to somehow turn back the clock would do no good at all.

Right that moment, lying on his bed in Grimmauld Place, tucked up in the nice clean sheets Mrs Weasley kept putting on his bed (he privately thought that Snape had told her about the sheets thing at Privet Drive and she was probably overcompensating), Harry didn’t think he could ever remember feeling so alone and he squeezed his eyes tight shut to try and stop the tears that were trickling down his cheeks and collecting in his hair.

His eyes were closed right now because he was doing his best to ignore Snape and Malfoy. They were both in his room talking in low tones. The blonde boy seemed to go nowhere these days without the snarky professor. Malfoy was speaking quietly to the ex-potions master.

“But we have to tell them soon, Professor Snape. It’ll be full next week and we need to get help.”

“I’ll speak to Harry when he wakes up, Draco.” Snape was saying. He seemed to be treating the other boy a bit more kindly today. He had been really snappy with him recently.

In fact Snape was the reason that Harry’s eyelids were clamped shut right now. Of all the adults in the house, Snape was the one who was truly freaking him out. The man was just acting so differently towards him and Harry was becoming quite worried. In recent days he had carried Harry upstairs. Stroked his hair (on several occasions), patted his hand (more than once), and called him ‘Harry’ more times than Harry could count, and since when had Professor Snape called him anything but ‘Potter’ in the most scathing of tones? Just lately Snape was being nice to him and Harry thought he knew why.

Snape must be able to tell that he was homosexual. Perhaps he was one too? Could gay people recognise other gay people, Harry wondered, and if so, how? But why on earth would Snape be interested in Harry? Harry knew he was skinny and small and not very attractive and he worried about whether anyone would ever want to be with him, surely Snape wouldn’t? Harry really hoped that the Professor hadn’t guessed and didn’t want to do anything with Harry because that was just, well, eewww, but it was the only thing he could think of really that made sense.

Harry’s mind was churning with worries and questions. So much so, that he was not paying attention to what was happening around him. So when Snape spoke, he nearly fell out of bed with shock.

“I know you are not asleep, Harry. Open your eyes. I think it is time for us to have a talk. Do not worry, we are alone.”

Of course that really worried him and Harry couldn’t help himself, he started to breathe more rapidly. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to be alone with Professor Snape and he sure as heck didn’t want to have a conversation with him about anything. But if he mentioned Harry’s possible gayness, he decided that he was going to run.

Slowly he opened his eyes and pushed himself up in bed so that he was sitting rather than lying down.

Snape was looking down at the floor. He was seated in a chintz armchair, close to Harry’s bed. Now he had spoken it was almost as if he did not know how to proceed. But Harry thought that couldn’t possibly be right, since when was Snape ever lost for words? Certainly never around Harry, he had always found it perfectly easy to call Harry all kinds of names and make clear to everyone exactly what he thought of him.

Snape’s silence was doing its bit to convince Harry that he had indeed been right and that Snape did know about him. Then the man reached over and took one of Harry’s hands in his own, much larger one.

Harry squeaked. He couldn’t believe it, he actually squeaked! Then he grabbed his hand back and thrust it under the bedcovers as if it had been burned.

Harry was astonished to see that the man looked almost hurt by his action.

Oh no, he was so fucked! Probably quite literally if he wasn’t careful.

“I am sorry, Harry,” the man was saying, “I….er….I just need to talk to you about something very important. I’m sorry but I don’t quite know how to begin.

“You see, Harry, I have seen a very different side to you in the last few days.”

Harry was trying very hard to still his breathing. He could feel himself almost panting with anxiety.

“Things have changed recently for me and I have learned about something that I think will fundamentally alter our relationship.”

Harry stiffened. His hands were back on top of the covers right now and he was anxiously picking at the sheet, unconsciously searching for loose threads.

“I have been a lonely man for most of my life, Harry, my own fault. The reason I am so alone today is entirely due to my actions, I realise that. But I have discovered something recently that might change that. Not just for me, but for both of us.”

Harry squeaked again.

Snape looked at him strangely, as if he could not understand Harry’s reaction. His dark eyes locked on Harry’s and the man stared intently at him for a moment or two.

He reached over to still Harry’s hands and as he did he continued talking. Harry reacted instinctively he jerked away a bit too strenuously and before he could do anything to stop it he was falling out of bed, crashing heavily on the bare wooden floor.

But as he was pulling back and falling he was still listening to Snape speaking to him in a calm moderated voice.

“You see, Harry, I have discovered we are related. I am your uncle, your mother was my sist…..By Circe, are you all right you stupid boy? What do you think you are doing?”

Harry’s backside hurt, his ribs were still sore and Snape, who had tried to stop his fall, had accidentally wrenched his still tender shoulder.

‘Ouch,’ he thought. But he said, “What? What did you say, Professor?”

“I asked what you thought you were doing. Surely you don’t still think that I would hurt you?” The man sounded a little wounded, confused by Harry’s actions.

“No not that!” Harry snapped, “Th..the other thing. What were you saying about my mother?”

He felt very foolish sitting on the floor staring up at Snape who had draped himself over the bed in order to see Harry on the other side.

“I’m sorry. I know it must be a shock for you,” Snape was continuing, “I probably could have handled it better. I didn’t quite know how to break the news.”

“Just say it!” Harry hissed, he thought he was probably going into shock.

“I said, you foolish boy, that I have just discovered that I am your maternal uncle.”


	10. Chapter Ten

Thanks Kim, you are simply phenominal hon! This one is for TQA who is resuming normal duties shortly *g* 

 

Ten

The boy was sprawled on the floor blinking owlishly at Severus and, belatedly, Severus realised that they had not sorted out glasses for him yet. All of them had meant to do it but as yet nobody had. He sighed to himself, wasn’t that just the story of the poor boy’s life? They had all meant to help him and yet somehow his needs had once again been overlooked. And yet Harry had said not one word of complaint, which was a very different reaction from the one Severus would have once expected from him.

He held out his hand to help the boy back on to the bed and was a little hurt when he flinched. Chagrined, he told himself firmly that the boy had been abused for much of his childhood. That he had never really had a good experience with the adults in his life, and that he, Severus, had not done a very good job in breaking the news of their own familial relationship.

Harry had been even more prickly than usual when Severus tried to talk to him, and he could not help but think that he probably deserved such a reaction after the way he had treated him over the years. In recent days, Severus had felt more and more guilty about their past relationship. He was determined to try and change things between them, even if the boy was very irritating at times. 

After all, family was important to Severus, who had had to make do with very little contact with the more agreeable members of his family because of the existence of the one very disagreeable member, his own father. He wondered what Harry would make of his more eccentric and peculiar aunts and uncles and what they would make of the fact that their great nephew was _The Boy Who Lived_. 

The boy’s family tree had just undergone a major re-shaping. The Prince family, who had generations of pureblood heritage behind them, would surely embrace the child of a half-blood witch who had stood against the Dark Lord, and the only scion of a family older than their own? The Prince family, unlike many purebloods, despised that upstart Voldemort and would have nothing with Severus after he had taken the Dark Mark, mistakenly thinking that his acceptance into the Death Eaters would overcome the tainted blood of his father.

So Severus tried hard to swallow his annoyance and extended his hand to Harry once again.

“I am merely trying to help you back on to the bed.” he said smoothly. “Do you not think that if I were going to hurt you, I would have already had far better opportunities than this one?”

The boy looked up at him again and, this time, extended his hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know why I did that.”

But Severus did. Harry was used to being hit by adults, wasn’t he? Especially the man he had believed to be his uncle.

“How come you only just found out?” Harry asked, as Severus helped him back into bed. He winced slightly, his shoulder was obviously still bothering him. Then, in a much quieter voice, “Or did you just not want to tell me before now?”

Severus looked at the boy, really looked at him. Circe, help me, he thought, the child was so damned needy, it oozed out of every pore. How could he not have seen it before now? Severus Snape, who prided himself on his skill at character judgement, had really got it wrong this time, hadn’t he?

“Did you know when you told him?” he asked, in such a quiet voice that Severus almost missed what he was saying.

“I beg your pardon, Harry? What do you mean?”

“When you told Voldemort the prophecy, did you know that my mum…. That she was your sister?”

Severus felt like his insides had turned to water. _Harry knew?_

“How, did you?” Severus mouth shut with an audible snap. He was quite simply, lost for words.

Harry looked at him straight in the eye, that cold green stare piercing him mercilessly. All of a sudden the air around them crackled with a dark menace, and immense power. Severus realised that the child’s magic had come in fully. Not only that, but he was controlling it, using it ruthlessly to let Severus know who was in charge. 

“Answer my question first.” he said coldly. “Did you know?”

For the first time, Severus got a glimpse of the steel in Harry’s soul and, all at once, he knew for certain that the Dark Lord had lost. He did not stand a chance against this boy. Severus had seen his foolish bravery, his determination, before. But never had he recognised the inner strength that Harry had, or realised the potency of his magic. The boy was very powerful indeed, stupendously powerful. For a moment he was awed. He thanked the gods that Harry was a Gryffindor, that he seemed to have such a strong sense of justice and fair play. Because, if things had been even a little bit different, if this boy had resented his relatives rather than defending them, he could have killed them all with out even breaking sweat and then moved on to seek his revenge for his dreadful childhood, just like Tom Riddle had.

“No Harry, I did not know. I swear to you that I did not. I did not even know that the prophecy was about them, about you. I would have done anything to save Lily, I promise you that I would.”

Harry regarded him steadily for a moment or two. Then, all at once, he was a boy again. Lost, uncertain, and somewhat beaten down by pain and loneliness. The atmosphere in the room returned to normal and Harry seemed to shrink.

“I met Trelawney that night.” he began, but now his eyes were fixed on the bedspread in front of him. “The night that Dumbledore died, I was going to warn him about Malfoy but instead I met her. She told me that you had crashed into her interview and how rude you were.” He looked up at Severus for a moment and said, wryly, “So no change there then, Professor? But Dumbledore had already told me that that was the night that he heard the prophecy. He told me that no-one but him heard the whole prophecy, that someone had heard the first part and told Voldemort. But he was lying, wasn’t he?

“You heard it all, everything. But I don’t think that he was there to interview her that night. I think he did interview her, but really, really he was waiting for you. Somehow, he thought you were going to turn to him and he got you onside, didn’t he? That’s when you became a spy?” Severus opened his mouth to answer, but Harry’s question had obviously been rhetorical because he had not stopped talking.

“I hated you that night, I wanted to kill you, tear you limb from limb with my bare hands. And then you apparently murdered Dumbledore in cold blood too and I knew that I hated you.”

Severus shivered. Harry knew it all. He was laying things before him that Severus had never wished to examine, things that he had buried for years. Harry was flaying him alive in a cold monotone. His blood felt like it had turned to ice in his veins. His heart felt like it was about to break. 

“But then I thought about it again and again. I had plenty of time to think this summer, Professor, and I worked out a lot of stuff. I worked out that you are as much Dumbledore’s man as I am. He didn’t beg you for his life, like I thought he did. He begged you to kill him, didn’t he?”

This time Severus could not keep silent. “You really did see it all, didn’t you?” he whispered.

Harry gave a bitter chuckle. “Yes I did.” he said simply.

This time Severus closed his eyes. He saw again, Albus’ face, heard the pleading in his head. ‘Please, Severus, for the sake of us all…Kill me, Severus, do it fast, I am dying, I am in pain. You promised me, Severus.’ He saw again, leaning against the wall, two brooms _two brooms_. Harry truly had seen him kill Dumbledore, Severus had known it all along, really, long before Harry had told him. He also knew that it was Severus’ fault that his parents had died, and for some reason he had not killed him yet. He felt like someone had shoved something hard and immovable down his throat, he felt like he had been torn in two.

Harry had known all this time, and yet he had done nothing, said nothing. Who was this child? How could have defended Severus to the Order like he had when he had known the truth?

“I hated you, Professor. If you had come to me earlier in the summer, I would have done my best to kill you. I used to lie in bed at night and plan how I would do it, each method more dreadful than the last. But when I really got to thinking, something just wasn’t right. I wondered why a loyal Death Eater, if he knew the whole prophecy, would just tell his beloved Master the first bit? Not the important bit, the bit that says _’he will mark him as his equal’_. Why not warn him? If Voldemort had not gone after my parents, he wouldn’t have marked me, I wouldn’t be in this position right now and he would be undefeatable.

“I reckon that, when Dumbledore heard that prophecy, he was delighted, relieved, probably overjoyed. He thought there was a chance at last. If Voldemort could be persuaded to search out the child then mark him as his equal, the side of light would have a chance. So then he got you to do the deed for him.

Oh, I don’t think for a moment that he realised what needed to happen for an equal to be created, but, by the time he realised my mum was pregnant, it was too late. Nothing could stop Voldemort by then, and the cost of creating this weapon was me. My childhood, my parents, my life.

“The worst of it, is I think I understand a bit of what he must have been going through now. These last few months, as more people have been killed or gone missing, I know that I would do anything in my power to stop Voldemort killing any more innocent people. Sacrifice anything, especially if it was something abstract, like the prophecy seemed to be. And in the end, he even sacrificed himself, didn’t he? He had been dying all year, he was just hoping to keep going just a bit longer, but it wasn’t to be.

“You had kept him alive, hadn’t you? When you gave us that welcoming speech in first year, you said you could ‘stopper death’ and you did. But that poison that he made me promise to force on him was the final straw. Whatever happened, he would have been dead by morning, and he wanted you to use his death to your best advantage.

“I reckon that near the end, the war, defeating Voldemort became ever more important. 

“When I worked it all out, I even hated him. When he told me about the prophecy and what I had to do, I destroyed his office. If he had been near me when I worked out how Voldemort had found out about it, I think I probably would have tried to kill him, tear him limb from limb. But I can’t hate him anymore. I don’t even blame him, really. He did what he thought was best, even if the consequences were really bad for me and for my mum and dad.” Harry wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, mopping up the few tears that had escaped. “There were two people responsible for the death of my parents. One was Peter Pettigrew, and the other one isn’t really even a person any more, because the other one was Voldemort.

“So if I can’t find it in me to blame Dumbledore, then I can’t really blame you either, can I? I don’t like you and I don’t like you touching me and calling me Harry like all of a sudden you care about me. But I’ll defend you, because all along you have been following Dumbledore’s instructions and that’s not always easy, I know. You don’t have to do this. Pretend we could have a family relationship. I mean, I believe you, it’s a shock and it doesn’t seem real somehow, but I don’t see why you would lie.”

The room was completely silent for a moment or two. Severus was unable to speak. He knew it all. Harry knew it all.

“So why did you come to find me, Professor? Why does it suddenly matter that we are related? What do you want from me?” He fixed Severus with another one of those gimlet glares. “I want the truth.”

“I promise you, Harry, that I have only just found out the truth for myself, I didn’t know. If I had known, I would have taken you in, I would have come to find you. I…I would have treated you well.” 

Harry’s eyes filled with tears again. But he blinked them away fiercely.

“When I found out, I was furious, hurt, wounded beyond belief. But most of that was down to the fact that Lily was my sister. That I cared for her and did not know about our relationship, neither of us knew and yet we were drawn to each other.

“I hated you because you are James’ son and he took her away from me. She was my friend, but, when she started hanging around with Potter, I gave her an ultimatum: ‘Him or me.’ And when she tried to stay friends after their relationship turned serious, I blanked her and refused to see her. You look so much like him. But I have come to know you so much better in the last few days and you are far more like her than him in many ways. I thought that you took after him in every way, that you were arrogant and spoiled. But what I saw at your aunt’s house…..” he broke off there, trying to get it straight in his own head just why things had changed so much for him, just why he felt so differently about Harry now.

The fact that Harry was his nephew, his own flesh and blood, did change things immensely, but so did the fact that he had seen a different side to the boy. The characteristics that Severus had attributed to him were not ones belonging to Harry. He wasn’t selfish, he wasn’t arrogant, he wasn’t spoiled. In fact, if Severus were very honest, he found that he rather admired Harry. He was unaccountably proud of him for the way he had dealt with things. But the boy had made it clear that he was not ready for things to change that much between them as yet, and Severus could not blame him, really.

Whilst Severus could see that Harry was desperately in need of someone in his life that he could turn to, he could also see that there had been too much enmity between them for him to accept Severus in that role right now, maybe one day, but not yet.

He looked up from his thoughts to see that the boy was still watching him. He had drawn up his knees in a protective gesture and was hugging them; seeking whatever comfort he could in this situation. Harry was waiting; he wanted to know about Eileen, he wanted to know how Severus had found out that Harry was his nephew. He had waited long enough. 

So, Severus told him everything.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Eleven

“I have a grandmother?” Harry said in a small voice.

“Yes Harry, you do.” Severus told him, “I think that you will like her immensely, and I know that she will like you.”

Harry turned a look on him that was so scathing, so sceptical that this time Severus flinched.

“It’s okay Professor,” Harry said coldly, “I will come and see your pensieve. I’ll defend you to the Aurors, but I was always going to do that anyway. You don’t have to lie to me. If my grandmother had wanted to know me she would have tried to find me before now, I think. Anyhow, I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m tired.” With that, he turned away from Severus and buried himself under the covers. Never, Severus thought to himself, had Harry seemed so young, so fragile. He wanted to touch the boy, to, of all things, give him a hug. And wasn’t that bizarre? Severus Snape wanting to hug someone. Severus Snape wanting to hug Harry Potter?

“Harry…” he began. He wanted to tell the boy how much his grandmother yearned to see him, how she had glowed with joy at the thought of meeting her only grandchild. How she kept the single photo that she owned of him close to her at all times. But he suspected that Harry would not believe him if he did share these things. The boy had latched onto to the fact that Eileen needed Harry to save Severus, and Severus thought that nothing that he could say would change the boy’s mind right now.

“Harry…” he tried again, but this time the boy answered thickly.

“Please, Professor, leave me alone. I’ll come tomorrow. I’ll meet her then but please leave me alone now.” Severus thought he heard a stifled sob and the boy’s shoulders started to shake under his covers. He stood, feeling more awkward than he could ever remember, possibly in his entire life. He clenched and unclenched his fists; aching to touch the boy, comfort him. But Harry had made it pretty clear that he did not want his relationship with Severus to change any more than it had already right now. Severus thought that the boy had probably had more than enough emotional upheaval for one day.

“I’ll see Molly about getting you fed,” he said gruffly, but Harry did not answer him. He just buried himself further into the covers and his shoulders shook a little more.

 

 

When Harry awoke, the house was dark. He felt completely drained, exhausted. The conversation that he had had with Professor Snape had probably been one of the hardest, the weirdest, that he ever had and he really didn’t know what the hell to make of it all. _Severus Snape was his uncle?_. Harry rolled his eyes to the heavens and decided that someone up there hated him. Either that, or he was the victim of some vast cosmic joke. He was sore again, his shoulder ached and his ribs, he thought that the Dursleys had really done a job on him this time. Perhaps his magic coming in meant that he was taking longer than normal to heal? 

His eyes felt scratchy too. Harry could not believe that he had cried either. He hadn’t cried since he was about six, there had never been any point, had there? Nobody had ever cared when he cried so he had learned not to. But today? Today was just too much. Petunia was not his aunt, she was some sort of cousin, and Harry had a grandmother. He had had one all along. She had known about him but had never tried to see him, to find him. He wondered what she was like, whether she would like him. But only for a moment, and then he tried not to think about her at all, because Harry didn’t seem to have much luck with his relatives, did he? 

All those years, he had wished, had prayed for there to be someone else, someone who would come and take him away from the Dursleys and finally now that he was seventeen and it was far too late, that someone had turned up and it was Severus Fucking Snape! Fucking cosmic joke, all right! Harry almost laughed, but he knew that once he began he would not stop, and then someone would turn up to cart him off to the secure ward at St Mungo’s where he could spend the rest of his days chatting to Gilderoy Lockhart and the Longbottoms.

Harry got out of bed. The torches were still lit so he could see well enough. Nothing was very clear without his glasses and he thought he should probably get something sorted out. He’d speak to Remus in the morning about what to do, or Hermione. They would know. There was a tray on the table by his bed. Mrs Weasley had left him something to drink and some muffins. They were still warm, Harry found. She must have put some kind of charm on them. On the chair, beside the food, there was a small pile of clean linen. Harry felt his eyes fill again. Bloody hell, he thought, he was turning into some sort of girl, crying all over the bloody place. Teary girls made him think of Cho Chang and he so did not want to go there. So instead, he carefully made his way out of his room towards the bathroom and, as he went, he wondered idly what had happened to the Dursleys. He must remember to ask about that tomorrow too.

He opened the door heading out on to the landing and fell over the large soft object lying in front of the entrance.

“Oof! What the fuck? Ouch.” The jolt had really hurt his shoulder and his ribs, but he pulled himself back up to a seated position in order to see what he had fallen over.

“Sorry,” said a small voice.

“Malfoy? What the fuck are you doing?” Harry hissed, “Have you decided to rejoin the Death Eaters? It’ll take more than that, you know, to kill me. ‘Death by tripping over a prone Malfoy,’ that would go down well with Voldemort, wouldn’t it?”

He heard the sharp intake of breath when he said the Dark Lord’s name and then Malfoy’s snarky voice said, “Look, you kicked me in the ribs, you great oaf. You should look where you are going.”  
“Malfoy,” Harry said slowly, as if talking to a very small child, “You were on the floor, in the dark, outside my door. Oh yes, and I don’t have my glasses, so it would be practically impossible for me to see you! How the fuck am I supposed to look where I am going under those circumstances?” 

“I was waiting for you.” Malfoy said, petulantly. “I have something to give you, and Professor Snape said he would talk to you tonight and he didn’t.”

Harry stared at the Malfoy-shaped lump in front of him in astonishment. He sighed deeply. “Look Malfoy, it is really late, so late that I don’t even know how late it is. I think that you should go back to bed; I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and believe me, Professor Snape really did talk to me. At length, and in great detail, and about a whole lot of things, I promise you that he did.”

“But he didn’t talk to you about me, did he?” Malfoy asked in a sad, tight little voice. “He said he would.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Harry muttered, exasperated. “Go on in, I’ll be there in a minute. Have a muffin or something!” 

When he re-entered the room, Malfoy was standing by the bed, his head down looking very dejected. He was holding something; clutching it against his chest as if it were precious and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for him. 

“Oh bollocks, Malfoy,” he said shortly. “Sit down, why don’t you?”

“Can’t,” the other boy answered, “There is bedding or something on the chair.”

Harry huffed. If he was honest with himself, then he was quite grateful for Malfoy’s visit. The blonde boy was a useful distraction from the thoughts that were plaguing him. But Harry was not planning on being honest with himself, not tonight and not for the foreseeable future. It was just all too painful. He was just going to ignore everything and maybe it would just go away. 

He walked over to the chair, lifted the sheets and gently deposited them at the foot of the bed. He thought he would have to have a word with Mrs Weasley in the morning; she probably had enough to do without washing sheets for him all the time. It had gone far enough, it had to stop.

Malfoy sat down, still with his eyes fixed on the floor.

Harry investigated the tray. There was only one cup, since Mrs Weasley could not have foreseen Malfoy’s visit, but there was a glass by his bed that had held water, so Harry poured some pumpkin juice into that and some into the cup, which he then handed to Malfoy. The other boy seemed to have forgotten that he was there.

“Malfoy,” he said. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

The other boy lifted his head. Harry could see his face quite well, but he was unable to make out the expression. Even without seeing him clearly though, Harry could tell that the other boy was deeply troubled.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “There is nobody else to turn to. Everybody hates me and I have nowhere else to go. My mother is missing, my father is in Azkaban, I am being hunted for being a Death Eater and even Snape hates me. I have no money. I am sleeping on a small camp bed in the library next to a leather armchair that I think is plotting my death. Oh yes, and I am filthy and dirty and my blood is tainted and, if my parents ever do come back, they won’t want me anymore. And I brought you this.” He shoved the object that he had been holding into Harry’s hands and then lifted his own hands to his face and began to cry openly. Harry was flummoxed. What the heck was he meant to do now?

He sat on the bed and looked at whatever it was that Malfoy had given him. It was a brown paper parcel, tied with string. Harry put that on the bed too. Then he stood up again and walked over to the blonde boy. He didn’t know what to do, how did you comfort someone anyway? It was completely outside Harry’s experience. Uncomfortable thoughts of Cho resurfaced and Harry fiercely tamped them down again. Uncertainly, he patted Malfoy on the back.

“Um…There, there Malfoy,” he said. 

Malfoy snorted, “You really are crap at this, aren’t you?” he said, scathingly.

Harry felt insulted; he bristled at the other boy.

“Well, I haven’t had a lot of experience of comforting people,” he said crossly. “And nobody ever comforted me. I just had to get on with it. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

Malfoy shrugged, but he was crying again.

So Harry grabbed him, he hauled him up by his arms and, even though the other boy was several inches taller than him, he wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled the blond head down to his shoulder with his free hand. Then it seemed as if the floodgates opened and, this time, Malfoy dissolved into true sobs, issuing a desolate heart-wrenching sound and Harry just stood there and held him.

Harry didn’t know how much later it was, he seemed to have held Malfoy for hours. They were sitting side by side on Harry’s bed under the covers eating muffins. Harry thought that maybe Mrs Weasley had been right about the clean sheets after all. There wasn’t much space as it was not the largest of beds, so Malfoy was kind of snuggled up to him and a secret part of Harry rather liked it.

“Did Snape tell you why we are on the run?” Malfoy asked

“Um…No.” Harry said.

“So he didn’t tell you that he saved me then?”

“Erm nope, didn’t tell me that either.”

“Last year he swore an oath to my mother, an unbreakable oath.”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

The look that Malfoy threw at him was so scathing, that, even with out his glasses, Harry could not mistake it. So he shut up and just listened.

“So he protected me.” Malfoy continued. “You know what happened at Hogwarts, don’t you? You know I couldn’t kill Dumbledore, that I am a coward?”

“Hey don’t say that!” Harry exclaimed, “Just because you couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, just ’cause you lowered your wand, that doesn’t make you a coward! That makes you, I don’t know, saveable I guess!”

Malfoy sighed, “You really did see, didn’t you? I didn’t want to do it. Well I did at first; I thought it was a great adventure. And then, and then it all got so horrible and scary and I was lonely and frightened and there was no one to turn to but a sad little ghost. I was so scared that he would kill my parents and then kill me, he’s mad, the Dark Lord. Evil.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be scathing. “Well, duh!” he said sharply.

Malfoy looked up at him, he had slipped down in the bed and he looked really comfortable. Harry thought it was probably the first time he had been comfortable for a while, he had slept on those camp beds himself and he rather thought that the floor was better. Hell, even his cupboard had been better than them.

“Voldemort decided to punish me.” The other boy was saying in a tremulous voice, and then, so quietly that he could barely be heard, “He gave me to Greyback.”

Harry was stunned.

“The fucker!” he said, “Oh Malfoy, you poor little sod. Are you okay? Did he scar you?”

“It was the full moon.” Malfoy whispered.

Then neither of them said anything for a very long time.

Finally Malfoy spoke again, “I suppose you think I deserve it, that it serves me right. You hate me now, don’t you?”

Harry sighed. “Malfoy,” he answered, “I have disliked you for years, but that is because you have always been a poisonous, jumped up little shit. I have never hated you, and I certainly don’t think that being turned into a werewolf is something that you deserved, I don’t that anyone deserves that, but I don’t hate you because of it.”

He looked down at the other boy, and this time he was quite glad that he did not have his glasses because the raw need that he could just about see in the other boy’s eyes was more than he could cope with right now.

“But what do I do?” Malfoy asked, “What do I do?”

“Well tomorrow,” Harry said, “we’ll speak to Remus. You haven’t done that yet, have you?” Malfoy shook his head. “And we’ll see about getting you some Wolfsbane brewed, Snape can do that; we need to set up a lab or something and get some ingredients.”

“But Potter,” Malfoy said, “I haven’t got any money.”

“S’alright, I’ve got plenty and we might as well get a lab set up. It could probably come in useful. Does every one else know?”

Malfoy nodded again, “Snape told them. He saved my life, he killed Greyback. That’s why we are on the run from the Dark Lord.”

Harry snorted, “Bloody hell,” he said, “Good for Snape. If he keeps doing things like that, I might end up liking him after all!”

“Thank you, Potter.” Malfoy said. It was so quiet that Harry barely heard him, but the other boy’s breathing had slowed and become even. He had fallen asleep. Harry thought he was probably exhausted. Having to throw yourself on the mercy of your former worst enemy could not be easy. Malfoy had had a tough time.

Harry wondered what was in the package. Carefully, he unwrapped it, only to find that it contained his Invisibility Cloak, which tumbled through his hand shimmering and silky, and his photograph album, the two most precious things in his life. Harry felt a lump in his throat. Malfoy must have rescued them before they left Privet Drive, because Harry thought it was not likely that he had been able to go back. Maybe the other boy had brought them along for leverage, but Harry didn’t think so. 

He laid his special things aside. He would look at them tomorrow. For a moment he thought about getting out of bed and transfiguring the chair or something into another bed. He was tired and he had a busy day tomorrow. Harry was tired of being an invalid, he had things to do. Not the least of which was meet his grandmother. But he refused to think about that right now and instead just lay back down beside Malfoy. Within seconds he was fast asleep too, neither boy noticing that they had curled against each other and snuggled close, unconsciously seeking protection and comfort.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Kim my love YOU ARE AWESOME!! Thank you

 

Twelve

When Severus went downstairs, Harry was already in the kitchen, helping Molly. He was clad in a pair of Ron’s pyjamas, which were several sizes too big for him. The two were snarking at one another happily.

“If you are going shopping for me later, then I am helping you now, and that is an end to it.” Harry was saying firmly, he was standing by the stove frying bacon. It was the smell of this which had woken Severus and he was sure that, with the delicious scents filling the air, that he would soon be joined by whomever else was staying in the house right now.

“But you have not been well, Harry, you should still be resting.”

“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley. Really, I am. All better now, I promise,” This time flexing the muscles in his arms as if to demonstrate his general wellness.

Molly smiled at him and reached up to feel the muscle that Harry indicated, “I can see that you are strong, Harry,” she said, “But you don’t have to do this to make me like you, you know.”

“I know,” Harry said looking down at his feet, “but I don’t think you should be doing this alone, it’s too much.” 

They both turned from the stove at the same time and noticed Severus.

“Good morning,” he said, as he walked over to the table and took a seat. A large orange teapot was sitting in the centre on a crocheted tablemat and Severus poured himself a cup of the thick brew.

“Good morning, Severus,” Molly said cheerfully. “Harry asked if we could gather after breakfast. He said the two of you had something to tell us.”

Severus raised his eyebrows and looked steadily at Harry. Harry stared stonily back.

“I think everyone should know,” he said, “unless, of course, you are ashamed of me? And I think she would probably be safer here if Voldemort is after you.” Then he turned back to the cooker and added some eggs to a pan.

Severus was stunned. He had never for a moment thought that Harry would want to claim him, Severus Snape, as family, and of course the boy was right; Severus had been really worried about Eileen. But, in his current situation, there had been nothing he could do to protect his mother. He didn’t even have his wand. He had no influence with the Order right now, in fact most of them were still quite hostile towards him, and he had nowhere safe that he could take Eileen.

Seconds later and the kitchen was full of people all talking at once.

After breakfast, and the usual arguments about who was clearing up, the crowd of people seemed to thinning out a little bit. Soon there were just the usual inhabitants of Grimmauld Place left; Lupin, assorted Weasleys, Granger, Malfoy, Tonks and Moody, who had arrived a little earlier and seemed to be hanging about for some reason.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Potter,” he growled, glaring at Severus. “They are Death Eaters. Both of them should be in Azkaban.” He glowered at Draco who flinched and started staring at the table with great intensity.

“Well, thanks for your advice, sir,” Harry said, “but I do trust them. I trust them both and I do not think that they should be without their wands right now.”

“They have fooled you, Potter, smarming up to you a little bit and you forgive them everything and welcome them into the fold.”

The look that Harry gave the grizzled old Auror would have quelled anyone and it certainly seemed to give even Moody pause for thought.

“I have my reasons for trusting them both,” Harry was saying, “but, right at this moment, I cannot tell you what those reasons are. _You_ will just have to trust me. And I didn’t say that I liked them, either of them, but I want them as safe and as useful as possible and they can’t be that much use to us without their wands.”

Malfoy flinched at Harry’s words, Severus almost flinched himself, but at least he thought Harry was nothing if not honest, painfully honest. Moody reached into his robes and brought out two wands and Severus felt like crying. He had never been without his wand as long as this before and he wanted to snatch it from the old Auror’s hands and cradle it to his chest. But Moody gave the wands to Harry, who took them with thanks and then returned them swiftly to their owners. From the look on Malfoy’s face he was just as delighted as Severus was. He stroked his wand gently and returned to his pocket. Severus put his away quickly before any one could take it away again.

Moody scowled at them all, “If they do anything they shouldn’t, let me know,” he said menacingly, “It’ll only take a minute to gut them both.” For a moment longer, he stood glaring at the two of them and then he swept from the room, banging the front door behind him.

“Well, that was pleasant!” said Lupin sarcastically, looking at Severus in apology. “But seriously, Harry, how do you know that you can trust them?”

“I know for a lot of reasons. Malfoy has every motive to hate Voldemort, as you all well know. And as for Professor Snape,” Harry said, walking back to the table where most people were still seated, finishing up coffee and eating toast. He started ticking those reasons of on the fingers of one hand. “He has saved my life on a number of occasions, including at the Dursleys the other day. I have a lot of cause to believe that he is indeed Dumbledore’s man and, furthermore, he found something out recently which clinches his trustworthiness for me. But I’ll let him tell you all about that.” He sat back down, poured himself another coffee, adding far too much sugar and cream, in Severus’ opinion, and started to nibble a piece of toast.

Every eye in the room turned to Severus. He sighed deeply. He was not sure that he wanted to share this with the people gathered before him, but he thought that Harry was probably right. They did need to know, it would make things easier. He could probably bring Eileen here, and his relationship with Harry, once made public, would undoubtedly help him in protesting his innocence. He couldn’t quite believe that Harry was so ready to claim him as a relative, though. He looked at the boy who was sitting at the head of the table, obviously aiming for an air of casual indifference and failing miserably. Severus suspected that, despite what Harry had said yesterday, he did want a family. He wanted someone to want him, to claim him and Severus thought that he at least owed the boy that.

So, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he launched into his story.

When he finished, the kitchen was totally silent, even the clock seemed to be holding its breath. Harry was staring at the tabletop now, idly stirring his finger around in a pile of sugar, making spiral patterns and listening intently.

Molly spoke first, “Oh Severus!” she said, “Poor you, your poor mother, and poor Harry.” She got up from where she was sitting and walked over to Harry first, enfolding him in a loving hug. Severus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hated being the focus of so much attention. He could see that Harry obviously felt the same. Rather spitefully, he revelled in the boy’s discomfort, and then he felt a pang of guilt. None of this mess was Harry’s fault, after all? 

“We are going to meet her this afternoon,” Harry said roughly, “and bring her back here for safety. Voldemort might take it into his head to go after her, especially if he finds out about me. No one else should be in danger ’cause of me. I thought she could have my room.”

Molly still had her hand on Harry’s shoulder. He held his hands in his lap and he was looking down at them as if they were the most interesting things that he had ever seen. She placed a finger under his chin and tilted his chin up so that she could see his eyes. “Is that why you needed the new clothes today, love?” she asked kindly.

Harry nodded, “I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me,” he said in a tiny voice. “I owled Madam Pomfrey too, to see if she could come and look at my eyes, maybe sort out some glasses or something, for my vision.”

It was such a huge revelation that nobody seemed to know what to say, then Ron grinned.

“It’s a pity you didn’t know this back at school, Harry. You could have got tons of leverage in potions.” 

Then everyone was talking at once again, and the awkwardness passed, and then people drifted off to get on with their day and mull over what had happened that morning, and Harry insisted on helping Molly with the dishes.

 

Eileen’s front door was immaculate, just like the rest of her house. The brassware shone, the paint was clean and fresh, and the windows gleamed in the sunlight. In the end, half the order had turned up to support them both and offer protection and Severus was grateful, even if he did suspect that they were mostly here for Harry and not for him.

The boy stood just beside him, he was pale and shaking a little. He had gone a bit green and looked as if he were going to be sick. His clothes were new, and they transformed him. He looked neat, stylish, as if he cared about his appearance. Molly had taken Hermione and Ginny and they had hit the chain stores, stopping first at Harry’s vault to get enough money. Severus had felt yet another pang of guilt because he, like everyone else, just assumed that Harry was lazy, and had never bothered about his appearance because he was arrogant. But they were wrong, weren’t they? His outsized, tatty clothing was, like so many other things in his life, yet one more indication of the neglect he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys.

Severus thought that he would never forget the vitriolic outpourings that Harry had suffered at their hands earlier that day. Harry had waited until Molly was well away from the house before inviting the family downstairs from the little room where the Order had sequestered them. He had stood there in front of them, not saying a word to defend himself, whilst they spent a full half-hour shouting at him for every perceived wrong in their lives. They had then proceeded to list every shortcoming they thought he had, until finally Severus had had enough and he told them all to shut up. 

Tonks had managed to arrange a safe house for the family somewhere in Europe, as it was felt that no one could be spared to keep watch on the family, and removing them from the country was probably the only way to keep them safe. Severus knew he was not alone though, when he suggested that they could just be obliviated and delivered gift-wrapped to the Dark Lord. In fact, it was that, more than anything, which had finally persuaded the family to be quiet. They obviously worked out for themselves that Severus meant every word.

It was Tonks again who apparated them away and, once they had finally gone, Harry had seemed to shrink. He had held himself together throughout the diatribe that they had unleashed on the boy but, after they were gone, he had made lunch with Ron and then quietly disappeared to his room to be alone for a while.

Severus, Arthur and Lupin had sat around the table, ignoring the rather lumpy sandwiches that Ron had made, and eating the delicious ones produced from the same ingredients by Harry. This time Severus made the tea. Molly and the girls were due back early that afternoon.

“It is a wonder that Harry did not grow up to be another Dark Lord when you see what he had to put up with,” Lupin had said sadly.

“Will your mother be good to him, Severus?” Arthur had asked. “Does she want him in her life? Because we can’t let him be hurt again, we should have seen this. He is right, you know. All of us saw the signs, time and time again, and then ignored them. Because we couldn’t believe that such things would happen to Harry, to a child we know. We should have looked out for him before. All of us should. But we have to look after him now too. He deserves much better than that, than those odious people. He is a good kid.”

Later, there had been much excitement as Harry tried on the various clothing that Molly and the girls had chosen. And those, along with the new glasses that Poppy delivered, made him look very handsome indeed. Neither Ginny, nor Hermione, nor Malfoy, Severus noted with not a little surprise, could take their eyes off him. Malfoy too had been astonished when he was presented with a parcel of clothing. “Your things looked a bit threadbare, dear, and Harry said he thought you might need a few things. They are only from a chain store, though, they are probably not what you are used to.” Molly had said. Even Ron and Ginny had one or two new items, courtesy of her housekeeping budget, so Molly had said, but she had winked at Harry at that point, which made Severus think that there was a little more behind the story.

Poppy had taken Severus aside and told him how pleased she was with Harry’s rapid healing. “He seems to have got over those broken bones very rapidly,” she had said. “Mind you, I would not be surprised if he doesn’t have some innate healing ability. After all the scarring I found when I did a magical scan, he has had to deal with some pretty bad breaks and bruises in the past. He has healed so well, that it was only when I did a deep scan, that I found any evidence at all of abuse. I had never seen it before.”

Molly had hugged the boy when they finally left for Eileen’s house, and brushed his hair from his eyes, and told a hugely embarrassed boy that anyone would be delighted to have him in their family, and she only wished that she had found out that Lily was _her_ long lost sister. He had blushed furiously then, and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before Severus had portkeyed them away.

And now they were here. Harry looked at him one more time, seeking what, comfort? Reassurance? Before lifting his hand to knock at the door. 

 

 

Harry felt like he wanted to run away. It had been easier, by far, to face a dragon, a Dark Lord, come to that, than be standing here on his grandmother’s doorstep. It was a sweet little house, with a bright red front door and colourful hanging baskets, brightened with begonias and lobelia. He had only found out about his grandmother the day before, and here he was, ready to meet her already. He had been very touched by the kindness of the Weasleys and Professor Lupin today, especially Mrs Weasley. They had all felt sorry for him, he knew. Sorry, and not a little guilty, but Harry had appreciated their kindness, whatever the reason behind it.

He had kept sneaking peeks at Snape all day, too. He could not quite believe that he was Harry’s uncle. When he had stood up to the Dursleys for Harry, it had made him feel quite fuzzy inside and he had to go to his room for a while, because all the emotion had proved just too much to handle. He had tried to continue hating the Professor, but instead found himself watching how he stood and talked and brushed his hair from his eyes and wondering if he were like Snape in any way, and how like Snape Lily had been. When he was upstairs, he had peered closely at his album to see if he could spot any resemblance between the Professor, Lily, and himself. He also wondered if he was any good at this ‘hate’ thing, because he couldn’t seem to sustain it for long, not even with Malfoy who had been horrible to Harry and his friends and whom Harry now felt sorry for. Not even with Severus Snape, who had been an out and out nasty bastard to Harry since he was eleven years old, and not with the Dursleys who he had just been glad to see the back of.

But now the door was opening. Harry was vaguely aware of the Order members standing nearby, of Snape beside him, but really he didn’t have eyes for anyone except the woman who opened the door.

She was small and quite thin. Her hair was white and drawn back behind her head in an old fashioned bun. To Harry, she looked like a picture-book granny. Her eyes were very like Snape’s but, whereas his had so often looked at Harry with hate and contempt, these eyes were warm and loving. When she saw him, Eileen Prince’s face broke into an enormous smile and Harry could feel the love radiating off her. She looked at him as if he was the best thing to ever walk into her life and nobody had ever looked at Harry like that before, not ever.

Harry felt warm all over, and safe, and welcome. Most of all, he knew that she was keen to know him, to have him in her life, and Harry had never felt anything quite like this. For the first time since he was a very small child, Harry felt wanted.

She lifted her hands to his face and cupped his cheeks as if she were holding something wonderful and precious. “Oh Severus, thank you,” she breathed, “E lad,” she whispered to Harry, “You are such a sight for sore eyes, you are!” With that, she drew them both inside and shut the door on the outside world.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N Chapter Fourteen is with Kim and will be up later today. Poor Kim has a migraine *soothes her head with a cold compress* 

 

 

Thirteen

Harry was asleep. He was curled up like a cat, with his head resting in Eileen’s lap, squashed on a sofa that was far too small for him, so that his legs stuck awkwardly over the wooden arm. He didn’t seem to mind at all, though.

Eileen’s hand was stroking the soft dark hair lovingly.

“What have they done to this boy, Severus?” she asked ruefully, “It don’t seem right, that he has had such a hard time when he could have come to me. I’d have loved him, you know?”

Severus sat down opposite his mother. He had an armful of her belongings, since he was the one doing the packing. They had been at Eileen’s house for a little over four hours now, but she seemed reluctant to let go of Harry for any reason whatsoever, even to pack up her precious things. She seemed utterly besotted with her beloved grandson and he was equally smitten, it seemed.

When Eileen had first closed the door behind them, they had just stood gazing at each other hungrily, lovingly, as if no one else mattered. There was a time, just a few days ago, when that would have made Severus furious, jealous; but not now, not anymore. Meeting Harry had already given his mother more joy than Severus could remember in many a long year. And Harry, why Harry, he had finally come home. Severus had watched the boy keenly, and any lingering mistrust of Eileen, of his grandmother, had disappeared as soon as her dark eyes met his green ones, and Severus had watched the boy fall ever more in love with her as the day wore on. 

Severus had hated him for years; but he hated a phantasm, hadn’t he? He had never known Harry, not until the last few days anyhow. The boy was still prickly with him, at least; perhaps always would be. But one smile from Severus’ mother, one tender touch, and the boy’s resistance had melted before Eileen’s love, like snow in the sunshine. How could Severus deny him that? After what he had seen in the last few days, what he had learned, there was no way that Severus could find it in his heart to resent him anymore.

He had watched Harry wander around Eileen’s little sitting room whilst she made the tea. Far from the snobbish rejection that Severus had expected, Harry wore a look of reverence, of wonder at being in his grandmother’s home. His hand hovered tentatively, almost, but not quite, touching each of her prized possessions which were displayed on practically every surface across the room. He had eventually and oh so carefully, picked up a photo of Severus as a school child, after being given permission by Eileen, and smiled over the top of the frame at Severus in an almost friendly way. “What age were you here, Professor?” he had asked, looking back down at the photo. Severus remembered it well. He had been about eight when the photo was taken; all knobbly knees and nubbly jumpers.

Severus told Harry about the day that the photo was taken; how his hair had not wanted to lay flat and he had been disgusted when his teacher had spit on a comb and run it through his hair seconds before the photo was taken. It was by far the most civil conversation that the two of them had ever had. “You’ll have to give Mum your photos, Harry, to add to her collection,” he had said. Harry’s smile had been infinitely sad when he pointed out that he didn’t have any pictures of him aged eight, or indeed any from his childhood at all, come to that. No one had bothered to take any, nobody had wanted them.

He had brightened though, when he had produced a large, leather-covered book, which he said did contain some photos of him as a baby. “There are photos of Mum, er Lily in here too,” he said. Then Severus, Harry and Eileen had squeezed side by side on the cramped sofa and looked at the album that Hagrid had given to Harry several years ago, when he had been just thirteen. Severus had had to turn away as the poignancy of the moment overwhelmed him. The pages of the book were so well thumbed, the book so treasured. This was the only memento Harry had of his mother, and the sight of the boy and Eileen, heads bent close together, looking at photos of a girl with bright hair, whom both of them loved and whom neither had known, was just too much in the end for Severus and he took himself off to the kitchen to make more tea. 

Not that much tea was drunk in the end. Harry and Eileen talked non stop and used similar gestures to describe things and laughed in the same way. Even though Eileen had a rich Yorkshire burr, and Harry used the broadly RP* English accent that his Surrey upbringing had given him, they still said things in the same way and held their head in a similar manner, cocked to one side when they were curious. And though Harry was in many ways the image of his father, he had his mother’s smile, which came directly from Eileen; and he ran his hand through his hair in the same way when animated in discussion and crinkled his forehead just like his gran did when unsure about something.

And as the afternoon wore on, Harry moved ever closer to Eileen, until he slipped down on the sofa with his head resting on her thin, but willing, shoulder. And as it got later he continued to sink lower and lower into the over-soft cushions whilst she told him of the love she had for her daughter, whom she had never known, and had regaled him with stories of Severus’ own childhood. Finally, he ended up where he was now, with his head in her lap and his breathing even, deep in slumber.

When Harry had fallen asleep, Severus had braved himself to ask his mother about moving out, fully prepared for the arguments that were to come. She loved her house, Eileen did. For so long when he was a child, they had moved from rented room, to rented room, never stopping for long, always on the run from the wrath of Tobias. Eventually Tobias had seemed to lose interest in them, and they had settled in the little house that Eileen had bought with money given to them by her mother; a house which was dark and bleak, but better than nothing and did them as a home for several years. Until, finally, when Severus had been teaching for a year or two, he had been able to buy this little place. A tiny cottage in a pretty village, far from the mill town where Spinner’s End was situated; close to the Dales with its splendid walks and dry stone walls. Somewhere his mother had been able to finally settle, put down roots, make friends and plant a garden; something she had always longed for.

So it was with some trepidation that he finally asked her about moving out. He had his arguments marshalled; he was ready to plead a need for Harry to know his grandmother, a need for her to be safe. But she simply agreed with no fuss at all.

“I owe him that, Sevvy,” she said, “I have let him down badly. I should have trusted you. Trusted that you weren’t bad, that you might have made a mistake, but were good at heart. I’m your Mum; I’m supposed to know you better than anyone. I should have known that you would never hurt your sister,” and then, so softly that he barely heard her, “or your sister’s child. 

“I trusted that Petunia would be like Rosie, when it turns out that both she and her husband seem to have been far more like Tobias.” Severus didn’t know how his mother had worked that out, because Harry had said very little about the Dursleys to her. His confusion must have showed on his face though, because she said, “He didn’t have to tell me anything, love. I can see it in his eyes.

“I haven’t got long,” Eileen said, “Not nearly long enough, really, when I should have had all of his life so far. But I’m going to do my best, love the lad like he should have always been loved, and if I’ve got to leave my home to do it, then that’s fine with me. What’s bricks and mortar compared to this precious lad?” 

Gently, she shook Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, love, wake up,” she said, “It’s time to get you home, back to the folk that care about you.”

Harry smiled up at her. His glasses were off again, and that always made his face look strangely naked. Like this, he was very like his mother in ways that were less apparent when his glasses were on.

The boy stood and held out his hand to Eileen, helping her to her feet and taking her arm as they walked to the door. He seemed to think for a moment that it was time to go, to leave her behind; he looked enquiringly at Severus, who said,

“Mum’s coming with us, Harry. She wants to get to know you better, don’t you Mum?”

“Aye lad,” Eileen had said in a gentle voice, standing on tiptoe in order to place a kiss on her grandson’s cheek, “that I do, sweetheart, that I do.”

And so they left. 

They left the only home that Eileen had known, the place that Severus had seen as a sanctuary so many times in the past. They did it, never knowing if they would come back, not sure of their welcome at Grimmauld Place. They risked a future that was scary and unknown and they did it for one reason and one reason only: They did it for Harry.

 

 

Harry was completely overwhelmed. No one had ever looked at him the way that Eileen had, with such love and understanding in their eyes. Harry had just decided that a family was not for him, that he would have to learn to survive without anyone who cared for him like that. Then Eileen had come into his life and now he grasped at her like a drowning man. He had to have more, couldn’t give her up; not now, not ever, if he could help it.

Before today, there had always been a certain emptiness in Harry, a deep need to be loved. He had once thought that Sirius would be the one to fill that void. But he had lost his godfather, mostly through his own fault, he thought. But he was not going to lose his gran.

When they had returned to Grimmauld Place, Eileen had been exhausted. Molly had cleared Harry’s room as she had promised. She had tried to make it attractive for an older lady, put a chintzy cover on the threadbare armchair, hung flowered curtains at the window, shone the brass at the hearth and set out some tea things by the fire. Harry’s belongings, which had been rescued by Remus only the day before, had been moved upstairs to the room that the Dursleys had used. There were three beds in that room, after all; one was Harry’s, one for Ron and one for Malfoy.

They had had a long chat that morning, him and Mrs Weasley. She had agreed that making Snape and Malfoy sleep in the, frankly, rather dangerous, library was not an ideal solution. So, Ron had moved out of his tiny attic bedroom to give Snape some privacy and been given a serious talking to by his mother. He was not to fight with Malfoy, they were on the same side now and they had to get on. Harry didn’t know how her discussion had gone, but he saw Ron and Malfoy eying each other warily and thought that Mrs Weasley had already done her stuff.

So, an unexpectedly gentle, Severus Snape had taken Eileen to the large sunny room that had lately been Harry’s, and tucked her up in the cosy bed and, whilst his gran got her rest, Harry got on with his plans.

He spoke to Remus about Malfoy, making the ex-professor promise to talk with the blonde boy later. He spoke to Snape about stocking a laboratory with all the ingredients that he would need for a variety of potions, including Wolfsbane. And he listened very carefully to the diagnosis that Poppy gave Snape about Eileen’s health.

“Her magic is damaged, Severus,” Poppy had said. “Seeing how Harry reacted to his magic coming in, and considering your own illness at seventeen, which I remember well! I was the one to treat you, after all, and you needed more than a fortnight to recover. I suspect that she had magic fever when she was seventeen, but that it was untreated, for some reason. She survived, but it fractured her magic. That’s why the cancer has taken her over, her magic is too broken, too fragmented, to fight the intrusion.”

When Snape had told Harry about Eileen, he had also told him that she was dying, but it hadn’t really registered then. He hadn’t known her, had thought she just wanted to meet him in order to ask him to save Snape. But then, then he _had_ met her and she looked at him as if he was the stars and the moon. She asked him about himself, his favourite colour, his favourite food. She stroked his hair and touched his cheek and called him “My Lad” in a way that made him warm and tingly inside. It was heady, addictive, this interest, having someone in his life who seemed to care about him and Harry was not going to let it go, not going to let her go not yet, not if he could help it.

She came downstairs for supper looking a bit stronger and sat at the scrub-topped table. She was introduced to everyone, and she smiled, and said hello, and was friendly and polite, but, most of the time, it was Harry that her eyes sought out, Harry that she looked for. 

For his part, Harry noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and her hollow cheeks, and the way her hand shook when she held her tea. He wanted to cry, because he had just found her and he didn’t want her to leave him. This had been the best day that Harry could ever remember, a day that had been a revelation to him that had filled him with joy. Finally, he knew what it felt like to have somebody love him and he didn’t want that feeling to ever end.

After dinner they all moved through to the sitting room and Harry sat at his gran’s feet. He was holding her hand and, when the jolt of pain ran through her, he felt it too. His head went up and their eyes met and she smiled.

“It’s alright, lad,” she said, when the pain had gone, “It’s not so bad!” But then later it came again and this time it was worse, and she closed her eyes for a moment whilst it held her in its grip. 

Then Harry made a decision; he was going to try to make her well. He had thought about it all day, on and off. He had never done this for anyone before, only for himself, and only then when things were really bad. But he was not going to lose anyone else that he could love, not if he could help it. So, the next time that his grandmother flinched with pain, Harry turned and gently grasped both her hands in his own. 

She sat on the sofa and he knelt at her feet. He felt a tingling in his fingers and in his toes, running through his veins. It was his magic, vibrating, seeking release. Eileen gasped; she had evidently felt it too. Her eyes met his, wide, astonished. “It’s alright Gran,” Harry said, “I won’t hurt you.” This time, when she looked at him, her eyes betrayed nothing but trust, belief in him. Somehow, they had connected at a very deep level and it was as if there were just the two of them, and that it had always been so and always would be so. Time stood still and Harry felt that, in this moment, there would never be anyone in their lives again; that they would just have each other, be together for eternity.

For Harry, the voices around them stilled, and the room blurred, and all he could feel was his grandmother’s pain. He could feel the blackness that was the cancer and, somewhere deep inside her, weak and fragile, but holding on somehow, he could feel her magic.

The summer before his Hogwarts letter had come, one of Petunia’s neighbours had died of cancer and Harry had felt sad. He had liked the woman. She had always been nice to him and once, when his aunt was out, she had given him a chocolate bar. One of the very few that Harry had ever had in his childhood. So he had gone to the library and looked up the disease and seen pictures of tumours, he knew what they were like. That woman had died, but Eileen would not, not until he knew her better, not yet, not while he needed her, not now he had found her. Harry would not allow it.

He closed his eyes and released his magic. He followed it with his mind, a shining, shimmering ribbon of molten gold, flowing, pulsating, rushing into Eileen, streaming into her blood, rushing through her veins, chasing the corruption away.

Ahead of him, he saw her pain. It was black and distorted, misshapen, sharp. But Harry followed it to the source and he shattered it with his magic, he blew it apart. One cyst was destroyed, gone forever. But Harry knew that there were more, the battle had just begun. This time, he was seeker and beater, as he hunted down the infection, as if it were a snitch, and destroyed it as if it were a bludger. Tumour-by-tumour, cyst-by-cyst, he vanished each one, carefully, thoroughly, he shrank them, removed them, chased them away, banished them forever.

But Harry knew that cancer had to be completely eradicated. He had to do more than just suppress it or it would come back stronger than before. Somehow, he had to strengthen Eileen’s magic, stimulate it. He let it sing to him, call to his own magic, and he followed the song, until, deep inside her, he found it at last.

Whereas Harry’s magic fizzed with strength and vitality and sang with life, Eileen’s was thin and fragmented, like the broken, wispy web of a spider blowing in the wind. So Harry fixed it. He took the broken ends, and reconnected them and, each time he joined a fragment with another, he infused it with some of his own magic and he sealed it with love.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he joined together the final disjointed strands and it was if Eileen’s magic finally came alive. Reconnected, revitalised, it too pulsated and Harry was propelled back along the paths that he had taken, faster and faster, until they were two separate individuals once again, disconnected and Harry fell backwards onto the floor in an ungainly, unconscious heap.

 

 

A/N: * RP stands for Received Pronunciation. RP is the standard accent of the “Home Counties” of England. For many years, it was the accent of TV and radio announcers, teachers etc, although many announcers etc now speak with a variety of regional accents. 

Most of the actors in the Harry Potter films speak with an RP accent (except for Hagrid, McGonagall, Wood, Cho Chang and Seamus Finnigan and Michael Gambon as Dumbledore, am not sure what his accent is meant to be!). And Harry, considering his upbringing, the social position of his uncle etc, would be likely to speak with an RP accent, as does Daniel Radcliffe and, indeed, Joanne Rowling. There is some debate in Britain that suggests that Snape comes from Northern England. Which is something I agree may well be indicated in the books, certainly his general dour demeanour could be attributed to a rather clichéd characterisation of a “Northerner”.

There are a variety of regional accents in the North of England, but the county I know best is Yorkshire. So, in my story, that’s where he and Eileen come from. 

When Severus first went to Hogwarts, his accent may have been quite noticeable, certainly his house at Spinner’s End indicates a “Working Class” background, possibly in a Northern English county, which would suggest a broader accent and, if Eileen had to take numerous jobs that were poorly paid, in a variety of different establishments, then it is possible that her accent would have broadened over the years as she tried to fit in with her work colleagues. I love the Yorkshire accents (because they vary across the county) and so I have given Eileen a fairly gentle generic Yorkshire accent, thus she says “were” instead of “was” and uses the word _lad_ a lot, she also says “aye” instead of “yes”. Severus lost his childhood accent at Hogwarts, where, at least in the films, the children mainly speak with broadly RP accents. ~ Lucie


	14. Chapter Fourteen

As promised Chapter Fourteen, Kim climbed out of her sick bed to beta this! 

 

Fourteen

When Harry took Eileen’s hands, her gasp of surprise caused everyone to turn and look at them; what they saw caused them to stop, to pause, in disbelief. The pair were surrounded by a golden pulsating light, a light which crackled with energy, vibrated, hummed. It excluded everyone else, formed a barrier. Severus rushed forward, shouting his mother’s name, but he was propelled back from a translucent wall which surrounded his mother and his nephew, excluding everyone else. 

Whatever was happening, the occupants of the room were helpless to prevent it, barred by a field of magic so strong that they could not even get close. Inside the shield, they saw Harry say something to his grandmother, and they watched her smile and nod and, all at once, the light glowed even brighter, dancing with little sparkles of gold radiating warmth and love. 

Severus felt pulled to it, that magical essence. It called to them all like a siren, drew them like moths to a flame, but at the same time keeping them all away. There was an impenetrable barrier, around which, none of them could pass. All they could do was watch and wait.

“What’s going on?” It was Ron’s voice, scared, anxious.

“Harry?” Hermione, trembly, concerned.

“What on Earth is happening?” Arthur, astonished, stunned.

Severus was worried; he was frightened that his mother was fading fast. He had seen her fall in love with her grandson and, worse, he had seen Harry fall for her and the boy had fallen hard. Denied affection for so much of his life, just the smallest taste of the love that most children took for granted, had obviously overwhelmed him. He should have known that the boy would do something foolish, something impulsive. It was, after all, the way that he had always reacted in unexpected situations. If only Harry had discussed Eileen’s illness with him, with anyone, they could have done something, talked about it. But that was never Harry’s way, was it? He rushed in with his heart on his sleeve, like the foolish Gryffindor that he was, and now Severus could not reach them; he could not stop what was happening, they were beyond his help.

“POTTER, LET HER GO, YOU FOOL!” he shouted, throwing himself forward again, only to find himself once more repelled by the magical barrier that surrounded Harry and Eileen. He fell to his knees in frustration and stifled a sob, but then he found himself wrapped in strong arms and held tight against an ample bosom.

“It’s alright Severus, don’t panic. He is healing her.” It was Poppy Pomfrey that held him, Poppy that spoke. “I have never seen anything like that in all my born days!” All eyes had turned to the Mediwitch now, hungry for information.

“It’s a healing spell, a very rare, very powerful one,” she continued, “When someone has been badly injured, their magic destroyed, sometimes several healers will join together and bathe the patient in their own magic, healing magic. It is a way of stimulating the patient’s own magical resources, encouraging the start of the process of getting well, the part that the patient has to play in overcoming illness. Your mother was too ill for that, Severus, although I was about to suggest that some of us could have joined together, given her a bit of support, strengthened her for just a little while. But, from my investigations, her magic was so damaged that nothing could have repaired it.

“I have seen some healing shields in my time, but never anything like this. The power, the strength of it! And he is doing it all instinctively! Don’t worry, Severus, she is safe, he will be too. He’ll be drained for certain, but he will be okay. His own magic will protect him first; the spell will shut down before he is seriously damaged. Oh, but he’ll be exhausted, probably sleep for days. But it is so powerful, never before….. I think that Harry may well be the strongest healer that I have ever seen.

“I should have known, of course! The times that the child has been brought to the Hospital Wing desperately injured, I’d be so worried and yet, he was always well again in no time. The speed that he recovered from magical fever too! I suspect that Harry has been healing himself for years. It is the only thing that explains the scars that I have seen, and how they went un-noticed for so long. 

“After I examined him the other day I called up his Muggle medical records. According to them, he broke his arm once, when he was three, and even that was only seen a couple of times; it mended rapidly, according to the record. And yet, Harry has had numerous injuries; that’s what the scan showed. But the Muggles never noticed? They have strict child protection laws and yet nobody ever saw the bruises, the broken bones? He has suffered lots of breaks over the years, I have seen the scars and yet they all went away. He mended them; somehow, he learned to make himself well. That’s how the Dursleys escaped detection for so long. Harry had no one to make him better, so he diverted his magic and learned to do it himself. The only way he kept growing kept developing. I saw signs of malnutrition when I did the deep scan, scars that would have killed a Muggle child, and yet he is healthy and very strong. A bit small perhaps, a little undernourished, but otherwise all right. 

“He really is remarkable, what a thirst for survival! And now, he is healing your mother. Just look at the strength of that magic, look at the gold shining through it; it is truly beautiful, isn’t it?”

Severus looked again. It _was_ beautiful, it was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. They had all heard about magic connecting like this, between mother and child, between close family members, but Severus thought that he was not the only one who had never seen it before. 

Harry and Eileen seemed wrapped up in each other, eyes locked on each other, similar smiles playing on their lips. Whatever was happening between them, it was pleasant, it did not hurt. They were connected at the deepest level, surrounded now by shimmering ribbons of the brightest gold, which were dancing around them, intertwining and breaking free, creating kaleidoscopic patterns in the air. And, all the while, the shield, which was awesome in its loveliness, stunning in its vibrancy, protected them both from intrusion.

“He will be drained when has finished, the foolish boy, worn out, but since when has his own safety ever stopped him doing something that he thought was right? I am sure he will have given your mother a lot longer to live though, halted the disease, if only for a while. You won’t lose her just yet, Severus.”

As she finished speaking, the golden glow intensified and the gorgeous golden ribbons were joined by darker bronze ones, which also glowed with light. Poppy gasped.

“Oh, oh!” she exclaimed, “Oh Circe, I cannot believe it! It cannot be true?”

“What is it Poppy?” Arthur this time, Severus was too afraid to ask.

“He has done it!” she breathed, “I cannot believe it! It is not possible! He should not have the skill, the power. I didn’t think it could be done. Never has been, not on someone so ill!”

“For goodness sake, Poppy!” Severus almost bellowed, “What? What has he done?”

The Mediwitch turned to him, her eyes wide with amazement, shining with tears. Never in all the years that he had known her, had Severus seen that look upon her face and not once, in all the time that he had worked with her, or been a patient himself, never had he seen Poppy Pomfrey cry.

“He has done the impossible, Severus,” she said, “He has repaired her magic and restored it to full strength.”

Severus tore his eyes from the awed face of the Mediwitch to look again at the spectacle in front of him.

“How can you tell?” he whispered. “How do you know?”

“The ribbons of light. The ribbons are the physical manifestation of their magic, we healers are trained to see them, see the colour of magic. It is very unusual for a healing ritual to be carried out in front of anyone other than healers, so it likely that most of you won’t have seen magic manifest before. And for the ribbons to be so clear, so easy to see, that is remarkable too. Most people never even learn the colour of their magic. Mine is blue - that is the usual colour for healers, that or white, it is often how we spot new healers - bronze is fairly common; yours is bronze I seem to remember. But Harry? Harry’s magic is gold. Only once have I seen that colour of magic and that was Albus. Albus’ magic was gold, but never as bright as Harry’s, not since I’ve known him anyway. The gold ribbons are Harry’s and the bronze ribbons, why they belong to your mother.”

They all watched, enraptured. It was as if the ribbons of light that danced in the air surrounding Harry and Eileen were performing a ballet, the movements that they made were poetic, charmed. The spirals that were dancing moved faster now, more frenetically, the ribbons seemed to be almost repelling each other, whirling away until, all at once, the glowing shield that surrounded Harry and Eileen vanished as suddenly as it had appeared bathing everyone in its backlash, imbuing them with feelings of peace and well being. Then Harry’s eyes closed, he let go of his grandmother’s hands and slumped unconscious to the floor. His face was pale and drawn, he looked exhausted, but on his lips was a satisfied smile.

 

For a moment, nobody moved. It was as if they had been stunned by the enormity of what they had seen. Then every one rushed forward at once.

Eileen sat on the sofa; she seemed almost stupefied so still did she sit. But, as Severus moved nearer, her eyes caught his. She was awake. As she looked at him, turned her face to his, it was Severus’ turn to gasp, for Eileen looked younger, healthier than he had ever seen her. Every thing about her seemed to glow with well-being. Her skin was no longer pale, almost grey in tone. Now she had pink cheeks and appeared to be glowing with health, her eyes and her hair shone and the lines of pain and worry that were so much a part of her rather stern features had melted away.

“Oh Severus,” she said, “It’s gone. The pain, it has all gone away.” Then she slumped back against the cushions of the sofa in a dead faint.

This time, Severus carried his mother upstairs, instead of his nephew; there were plenty of hands to help Harry, after all. He placed her gently on the bed that her grandson had vacated for her and sat down in the newly covered armchair. Poppy did some investigations and confirmed that: 

“Not only does the cancer seem to have disappeared completely, but, since Eileen’s magic seems to have strengthened perhaps as much as one hundred fold, I don’t think it will ever be coming back. For all intents and purposes, from what I can say, with out more in-depth tests, that is: Eileen is cured. 

“She is, therefore, a very healthy seventy-six year-old-woman, which as every one in the wizarding world knows, means that she just a little over middle-aged and she should have a great many healthy years ahead of her. Oh, and by the way, don’t worry, Severus, I won’t be telling anyone about this incident yet. Because, not only do I think that it would not be a good idea to let the world know anything about the true strength of Harry’s magic, but I don’t anyone would believe me if I did tell them.” Then Poppy had swept from the room to check on Harry and left him to spend some quiet time alone with his mother.

Severus was stunned. He sat beside Eileen’s bed feeling numb. In just a few short days his world had been turned upside down and inside out. In that time he had found out that: his mother was about to die; the girl he had cared for, and for whose death he shared the responsibility, was not just a friend but the sister that he had longed for all his life. He learned that the son of his hated rival was, in fact, his nephew and that this boy was far from the spoiled brat that Severus had assumed him to be; instead he was a child who had been hated and despised, mistreated and abused.

This child had been told the truth about the prophecy. He knew his own part in it and furthermore, he knew who had communicated the details to the Dark Lord. Whilst he had every reason to hate both Severus and Eileen for abandoning him to the dreadful treatment he had received, he seemed to hold little resentment against Severus, despite how he had always behaved towards the boy, and had displayed instant affection for his grandmother; A woman that he had only met once, and yet for whom he had subsequently risked at the very least severe exhaustion in order to save her life. 

Added to these facts, if one considered that the boy in question was the so-called “Chosen One,” and that he displayed more raw power than Severus had ever seen, somehow they were going to have to build a relationship, a new one, created from different foundations from those of hate and mistrust. He had always felt some responsibility for the Potter boy; mixed up with the guilt he had carried for the death of his parents. Severus had of course long known that Harry was the one, the only one to stand a chance of defeating the Dark Lord. But he had never believed Albus when he had told him, time after time, that there was more to the boy than Severus had suspected, far more. 

Well, now Severus knew for himself. He owed Harry a greater debt than he could ever repay; he owed him for Eileen’s life. He also found that he admired the boy. Harry had grown up completely unwanted and ignored and yet somehow, for some reason, he still always tried to do the right thing and help others and he did it without fuss and without seeking approval; just because it was the right thing to do. The fact that Malfoy was, right this moment, talking to Lupin, wearing new clothes, and looking less anxious than he had in a long time, showed this. Severus now had a room of his own; a laboratory was being set up in the cellar for him and stocked with whatever potions ingredients he might wish for. Harry had told him to order whatever he needed and given him a large sum of money to do just that.

Molly was bustling around, busy and occupied. The Order had purpose again and even the boy’s odious relatives had been whisked away to somewhere that was both safer than where they had been before, but less magical as well, so they would feel more comfortable.

The boy was an enigma to Severus. His reactions were completely unexplainable, as far as he could see, and yet, Severus needed to get to know the boy, because he was the only one who stood a chance of defeating Voldemort. And Severus knew that _he_ was the only adult who could help Harry find and destroy the Horcruxes and move on to meet his destiny. It was no wonder that Severus felt overwhelmed!

But, right now, Eileen was sleeping. She looked more relaxed, more comfortable than she had for a very long time, and Severus realised, belatedly, that she had been ill, and probably frightened, long before she had told him, her son, what was wrong.

He reached over to gently stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep well, Mum,” he said with his voice full of tenderness. Then he stood, rather stiffly, and went in search of his nephew.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

 

Thanks kim and tqa for all your help this weekend

When Harry awoke, he was absolutely ravenous. He was a teenaged boy, so such feelings were not completely new to him. He was also a teenaged boy who had grown up at the Dursleys, which meant that he could ignore his hunger longer than most boys his age, but this hunger was beyond anything he had ever known. He had to eat and soon. He sat up and swung himself out of bed, feeling surprisingly shaky. It was dark still and he wondered idly what time it was as he made his way out of the bedroom and down the passageway on legs that felt like they didn’t belong to him.

He was on the third floor at Grimmauld Place, which pleased him. He saw that there were two other beds in the room and he thought that both were occupied, it wasn’t clear with out his glasses. But, if he were right, that meant that Mrs Weasley had done as he asked and put his Gran in the main bedroom. He wondered idly how she was. He hoped that she was okay; he knew that he had destroyed the cancer cells, that he had cured her, but he also hoped that people were not about to make a fuss, he hated fusses. If he just fed himself now, whilst the house was quiet then he could creep back to bed and no one would be any the wiser.

There was, of course, no food left in the kitchen. There was some bread, right enough, but Harry thought that would probably be needed for breakfast. So he searched in the store cupboard and found various ingredients, including some cheese that had become hard and some stale milk, as well as a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon. The oven warmed up in no time and, quite happy to putter about, Harry began to make scones, humming quietly to himself. He made as many as he could manage, intent on saving most of them for the morning. The first batch was ready and Harry removed them from the oven and placed them on the worktop. 

He had taken his pyjama top off by now and draped it over the back of a nearby chair; it was far too warm on an August night to be wearing such a thick cotton top and being in the kitchen, with the heat from the oven, just exacerbated that. Not that there was anyone about at that time of night to see him, anyhow. He did manage to catch sight of himself reflected in the shiny metal kettle though, and was quite pleased to see that he was quite trim still; his stomach was still toned as well, must have been from all the heavy lifting he had done when he was at the Dursleys. 

The kettle boiled and Harry placed some of the still-warm scones on the table and turned to fill the teapot. Finally ready to begin his meal, he pulled out a chair and sat down. It was then that he noticed Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows, watching him.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he blushed.

How long had Malfoy been standing there anyway? Had he seen Harry check himself out in the kettle, had he watched him take off his top? His feelings of embarrassment were probably what caused him to snap at the other boy quite rudely.

“What do you want Malfoy?” he hissed, but he felt a hint of shame when the other boy flinched. Malfoy had dark circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks; he looked worried and Harry couldn’t help himself, he softened.

“Do you want some tea and a scone?” he asked, almost gently. He was gratified when the other boy came over and sat opposite him and for a while they just ate in silence.

“These are great.” Malfoy said, finishing his third scone and then using the tip of his moistened finger to mop up the crumbs. “I don’t remember them from dinner. Did Mrs Weasley make them for breakfast or something?”

“No, you twit,” Harry said. “I made them, what do you think that smell is? Left over from earlier or something?” He rose then to take another batch out and put some more in the oven. When he turned back, Malfoy was staring at him. “ _You_ made them?” he squeaked.

“Of course I bloody did,” Harry snapped, “Who else d’you think it was, an invisible house-elf?”

Malfoy looked down at the table and shrugged. 

“Dunno,” he said, “It’s just you were always such crap at potions, that I thought that, well I don’t know what I thought..”

He had trailed off. Harry was about to comment that he had done okay at potions when he hadn’t been taught by a greasy, snarky git any longer, or when certain people had stopped throwing things in his cauldron. But he didn’t. Instead he sat back down. 

He couldn’t quite bring himself to make snitty comments about Snape any more. The guy had, after all, been quite nice to him lately, and that was quite a novelty as far as relations were concerned; at least in Harry’s experience it was. He also didn’t quite want to launch into a war of insults against Malfoy either, the other boy just looked too fragile for that.

“What’s wrong, Malfoy?” he asked. 

The other boy wouldn’t look at him.

“No one likes me.” he whispered. 

“Someone does, I’m sure, er I think that Pansy Parkinson does, and um Zabini, er and Crabbe and Goyle and oh, er your Mum, I’m pretty sure your Mum likes you Malfoy.”

The other boy looked at him, his large grey eyes filled with tears and his lower lip began to tremble.

“Oh fuck it all! Malfoy, don’t start crying again!” Harry said, “It makes every thing so damp!”

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy said, his breath hitching on his words, “It’s just that nobody here likes me and I’m lonely and frightened.” The last word was said so quietly that Harry almost didn’t hear it at all.

“Look, Malfoy, I am sorry that you are lonely, but I’m pretty sure that nobody dislikes you, well not that much anyway.”

“Weasley does!” Malfoy said looking up at him with wet, accusing eyes.

“Look, you nit, the very fact that you are sitting here without sporting tentacles, or orange and purple skin or warts or something, means that Ron is at least trying to be nice to you. You were a complete shit for all those years at Hogwarts; we can’t like you overnight, just like that. Oh, and stop trying to cause trouble for Ron, cause he’s my mate and I am not going to start bad-mouthing him, just cause he isn’t holding your hand.”

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy whispered, looking down at the table again sadly. “I don’t want to cause trouble, I just feel so scared.”

Harry was sure that his jaw had dropped. Malfoy had said sorry to _him_.

He shook himself. “Why are you so scared? You are safe here, no one will hurt you, not even Ron. If he was going to hurt you he’d have done it by now.”

“I’m not scared of Weasley,” Malfoy hissed. “I’m scared of tomorrow night!”

Harry knew he must have looked gormless because Malfoy continued to explain.

“You know, the full moon.”

“But you’ve got ages yet, the full moon’s not till next week.”

“It is next week, Potter. You have been asleep for six days.”

“Yes Harry,” said a silky voice, “you completely exhausted yourself with your latest escapade, and yet here you are in the wee small hours, sitting in the kitchen doing goodness knows what.”

It was Snape, of course it was Snape. Something about the scene gave Harry the strangest feeling of déjà vu. He could almost have been at Hogwarts, hiding under his invisibility cloak, whilst the erstwhile potions master stalked the corridors looking for him.

“I was hungry!” he exclaimed, somewhat crossly. “And if I have been asleep for six days then it is about time that I got up, isn’t it? I have things to do, after all.” With that he stood up and went back to the stove. “Do you want a cup of tea and a scone?”

 

Severus smiled. “Yes please, Harry,” he said, drawing a look of surprise from those green eyes. When they boy didn’t have his glasses on, like now for instance, it was amazing how beautiful they were. Severus did not go in for boys; especially boys who also happened to be his nephew. He liked his lovers to be men, or women, and all grown up. But that did not mean that he could not appreciate how stunning Harry had become. Malfoy certainly seemed to be enjoying the view of Harry’s lightly tanned torso. The boy had reached up to get a cloth and then bent down to take more delicious smelling scones out of the oven. Severus was sure that, if he looked hard, he would see a puddle of drool in front of the blonde boy any minute now. He wondered if Harry realised quite what effect he was having on Draco, but swiftly came to the conclusion that the boy was completely clueless about his own charms.

“You should not be serving us, Harry,” was all he said though, but was not surprised to see the boy bristle at him. By Circe, he was prickly! It was not surprising though, was it? Severus was now sure that they boy had rarely ever been praised, and never been looked after; he didn’t know how to cope with people who cared about him, did he?

“I’m fine!” Harry muttered through gritted teeth, though Severus did notice that the boy swayed a little as he put some more scones on the table, along with fresh tea.

“Indeed you are,” Severus replied. “For someone who has recently expended the amount of power that would completely flatten a small team of aurors, you are doing remarkably well; but I think it will never cease to amaze me that, no matter how many guards we put next to your sick bed, you always seem to choose the one moment that no-one is paying attention to wake up!” 

To Severus’ surprise, Harry grinned at him, “Yeah, well, sorry about that, but I was hungry and there was no one else about and I am sort of used to taking care of myself.”

The boy looked down sadly when he said these last words.

“Um,” Harry was continuing, “Um Draco and I were having a little chat; I didn’t know that I had slept so long. Erm, tonight, well tomorrow night, or whatever it is, that’s the full moon, isn’t it? Will Draco be alright, Professor?”

Severus caught the astonished look that Draco gave the other boy. What precisely had surprised him the most though, Severus was not sure. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had, certainly for the first time in Severus’ hearing, called the boy by his first name. Or perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to care for his welfare.

Harry was not trying to impress anyone, was he? He didn’t think he impressed Severus, certainly. He didn’t know that Severus had had an epiphany. Severus was very impressed by Harry, very impressed indeed and, considering the fact that just two weeks ago he had been close to despair of ever helping a boy that he had previously considered to be arrogant and somewhat stupid, if the truth were known, that was no mean feat indeed.

Harry had yet to catch up with Severus’ paradigm shift; he didn’t know that the man who had belittled him, despised him, for so many years, now rather admired him. Severus knew that this new relationship between them was going to take time to develop, a lot of time.

“We have been doing our best, Lupin and I, to prepare for Draco’s transformation. I have made a large batch of Wolfsbane, which Draco has already started consuming in preparation. And the brew that I give him tomorrow night will contain a powerful painkiller and soporific. Most werewolves hate to be dopey when they transform but, as Draco is so afraid of the pain, we thought it best to concoct something just for him.”

“See Draco,” Harry said, patting the other boy’s hand, “It’ll be okay, and I’ll come and see you as soon as I can. I mean, I’m not an animagus or anything, but I sort of might try and become one, so that, you know, I can keep you company another time. But it’s not like you’ll be all alone. Um, Remus will be there and I’ll come and see you as soon as you turn human again. You’ll be alright Draco, you just have to try and be brave.”

He was holding the other boy’s hand now and stroking Draco’s thumb gently with his own. Severus was sure that he had not realised that he was doing it. But also, subconsciously, it seemed he was somehow soothing Draco. The boy was looking better than he had for days; maybe there was something to be said after all for scones in the wee small hours?

“Of course you’ll be alright,” Severus told the blonde boy. “We will all look after you.” He took the boy’s other hand in his own now; it was suddenly obvious that Draco was terrified and Severus was not sure how he had missed it over the last few days. But with the worry of recent raids, the worry for Harry, who had seemed determined to sleep for weeks, and the delight of his own mother’s new-found health, he had not really thought about Draco. The boy had become a pest, an inconvenience to them all and it had taken Harry once again to notice. So slow to make demands for himself, he was quick to notice, and try to overcome, the problems of others.

But Harry was looking rather pale himself now, wasn’t he? 

“Come along, boy,” he said to Harry, noting him cringe at the innocuous word. “Come along _Harry_ , come along Draco, lets get you both back to bed.” 

“M’okay,” Harry muttered, staggering to his feet. “Not tired!”

Severus smiled, “Well, will you at least let me accompany you back upstairs, Mr Potter?” he asked, “I don’t mind helping, I do owe you a great amount, far more than I could every repay.”

Harry looked puzzled, as if he could not work out exactly what it was that Severus owed him. But he was obviously too exhausted to offer up any arguments.

Severus smiled to himself; only Harry Potter could wake up from a six day magical coma and spend the next few hours baking scones and comforting distressed werewolves. 

But the boy was swaying even more alarmingly now, and Severus rushed around the table to catch him before he fell. Harry looked at him bewildered when he found himself once again in Severus’ arms.

“Um, Professor,” he slurred, “You’re carrying me again, you always seem to be carrying me these days, don’t you?”

“Indeed I do, Harry,” Severus answered. “Hmm,” the boy said, laying his dark head wearily on Severus shoulder, “S’nice,”

Severus smiled; he almost, but not quite (he assured himself), felt affection for the boy.

“Come along, Draco,” he said to the other boy. “Let’s get you and this young man back to bed.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

 

Thanks Kim and TQA for your usual stellar job!!!

\+ Please note that this is a re-update! I updated this chapter and the one following but the changes were lost when the site reverted to the old system - aplogies therefore if you have already read and reviewed

 

This time when Harry awoke, someone was holding his hand. He didn’t want to open his eyes because then they might stop and it was really, really nice.

He felt warm and safe and he couldn’t help himself, he smiled.

“Hello, love. Looks like you’re awake then? How’re you feeling?”

It was his Gran, his Gran’s voice, and Harry didn’t quite know what to do. He suddenly felt deeply embarrassed about what had happened the last time that he had seen her. He felt such a fool! Why couldn’t he have done his healing bit when they were alone? Because he knew that people were going to say things and it was going to feel really uncomfortable. He didn’t regret healing her, not for a moment, but it had been bad enough when everyone had found out about the Dursleys; they had spent the last week treating him like he was made of glass and this time he’d been in a coma for six days or something. They were going to go really overboard now, weren’t they?

She squeezed his hand gently.

“It’s alright love, we’re alone. You’ve no need to feel shy or embarrassed.”

Harry’s eyes sprung open.

“Hhhow did you know how I felt?” he asked.

Eileen smiled at him kindly.

“I know that you and Sev haven’t always got on in the past,” she said, ignoring Harry’s snort. “He told me that. We’ve done a lot of talking in the last six days while you were sleeping, him and me, and he’s told me a lot about you and your school days; well, what he knows of them anyhow, and a little of your childhood, what he has found out over the past week or two.”

She looked very sad when she said the last bit, and Harry squirmed a little. He couldn’t help feeling a tad guilty that his Gran was upset. But Eileen perhaps read his thoughts again because she squeezed his hand reassuringly before she continued.

“Suffice to say that no one will give the whereabouts of the Dursleys because they’re worried about what I might do to them.” Her eyes flashed like Snape’s did when he was really angry, an emotion that Harry had never seemed to have any problems provoking in him. But he felt quite comforted when he recognised it in his Gran, because it was on his behalf this time, and that made his tummy feel all fluttery. 

“Severus said he’d always thought that you were a lot like your Dad, ‘cause you look like him, apparently.” Harry snorted again.

“But I have my mother’s eyes!” he finished somewhat bitterly.

“Aye lad, that you do,” she said, touching his cheek with the back of her hand. “And I’m right glad of it. I never got to see my daughter, so I’m thankful that her beautiful eyes live on in her son, my grandson.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat when she said that and he felt all hot.

Eileen squeezed his hand again and carried on speaking.

“But Severus says that the way you are yourself: the way you defend people, your bravery, your personality; it’s much more like Lily than he ever realised. He says he’s seen another side of you, one he didn’t know was there; told me you’ve made him right proud this last week or two.” Harry was sure that his jaw had dropped. Severus Snape had told his mother that he was proud of _Harry?_ “He told me he’s sorry about the way he treated you in the past, the way that he didn’t see what your life was like. I told him he should be sorry, treating my grandson like that. Mind you, they are all sorry downstairs, come to that; they’re all regretting a lot of things that happened that shouldn’t have. Seems to me like I got here far too late and they all could do with their arses kicked!”

Harry stared. Little old ladies didn’t use words like that, did they? Surely not? But Eileen’s eyes were flashing with anger still and it seemed that his Gran did use words like that and maybe had done on his behalf. He wondered what things had been like for the adults who had previously guided his life over the past few days now that Eileen was on the scene.

“Any road,” she carried on, “you and Sev seem quite alike in a lot of ways too.”

Harry opened his mouth to say that he and Snape were nothing like each other, but a look in his grandmother’s eyes stopped him.

“You both take on far too much of a burden and you both carry too much guilt. It’s them, who were meant to be looking after you, are the ones that should feel guilty love, not you. You are a smashing lad, with nothing to feel ashamed or embarrassed about and I am right proud to have you as my grandson.”

Harry opened his mouth to say that he was nothing to be proud of that he was reckless and a bit stupid, he thought, and runty and clumsy sometimes, oh and _gay._

But Eileen had reached out and cupped his cheek. Her eyes were like her son’s, but whereas as far as Harry could remember Snape’s eyes looked at him with hatred and contempt, these shone with pride and with love. 

“I just wanted to say, before we go downstairs to get you something to eat and drink, that I have dreamed of meeting you since you were a tiny babe, longed for it, and yet you my love, are so much more than I ever dreamed of. I’m right proud of you too.” She stood up and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll just be outside while you get dressed, if that’s all right? I’ve waited seventeen years to be escorted into a room on the arm of my handsome, grown up grandson, I’m looking forward to it.”

Harry felt as if he had been sucker punched. Nobody had ever said such things to him, not ever. Even when Dumbledore had said he was proud of Harry, it hadn’t felt like this. This was nice; this was lovely. And, all at once, Harry felt better than he had in a very long time. 

He was dressed in moments and, after a quick trip to the loo, Harry and his grandmother made their way downstairs. 

 

Harry was hot. He kicked the covers off; he was too hot and too _not tired_ to sleep. He had just lived through one of the strangest days that he had ever had and, considering how weird his life was, that really was saying something. His mind was turning over, thoughts appearing as if from nowhere and getting tangled with others and taking his mind in all sorts of weird directions and, of course, there was the fact that he had _been_ asleep for six days and he just didn’t want to sleep anymore.

When he had finally managed to get downstairs with his Gran, it had been fairly late morning and everyone had obviously been up and about for hours. All the adults present had more or less ignored him, - albeit in a sort of ‘looking at him sorrowfully every so often, or smiling sadly from time to time and effusing about the deliciousness of his scones’ sort of way - which suited Harry fine, even if he did suspect that it was because they had been warned off by his granny! So finally, he had managed to get some time alone with his friends. He felt like he hadn’t seen Ron and Hermione in ages. Every time that they had been together, someone had interrupted them to ask how he was feeling, or see if he’d needed anything, but today all the adults in his life seemed to be eying Eileen warily and avoiding him, even Snape, and Harry could not have been more relieved.

They were in a corner of the library well away from prying eyes and ears, “You should have seen it, mate,” Ron was saying, “Your Gran was great; she was bloody fantastic!” Harry smiled to himself; he thought she was quite amazing too, even though he hardly knew her.

“What happened?” he asked. 

“Well all the adults have been a bit sort of overawed over the last few days, Harry,” Hermione said. “I mean, what you did for your Gran, the healing, well I had never seen anything like, it. Nobody has. Madam Pomfrey has been in and out of here every day; she was here this morning, in fact. It was so incredible, so amazing. I mean, do you know how advanced the magic that you did was Harry?” She paused to take a breath and Ron said.

“Shut up, Hermione. Or I’ll tell Eileen that you are upsetting Harry.” 

Hermione’s mouth shut with an audible clack.

Harry stared, “What on Earth did Gran say to everyone?” he asked.

Ron was about to continue when they all heard a thump and several books fell to the floor. Draco stood up from behind a small table, blushing. They had come to the library for some peace away from the adults and none of them had thought to ask the other boy. They had wanted to catch up, just spend some time together and, of course, they needed to discuss how the hunt for Horcruxes was progressing.

Harry’s eyes flew to Ron’s and, just for a second, they looked at each other. Then Ron gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Come and join us, Draco,” Harry said. The Horcruxes could wait, and Harry had made himself a promise the night before that he would be nicer to Draco and now was as good a time as any to put that into practice. Draco’s jaw dropped, but then the Malfoy pride kicked in and he raised his chin with a touch of the old arrogance and said.

“I don’t need your pity, Potter! I…I just came in for a book.”

Harry almost laughed. Of course Draco needed their pity, well maybe not their pity but certainly their friendship! This was the boy who had blubbered all over Harry only last night, after all. But, rather wisely for Harry, he said none of this and it was in fact Ron who told Draco to, “Stop acting like a dickhead, shut up, and sit down.”

And Draco did with such alacrity that Harry realised that he felt a little bit in awe of Ron. Draco didn’t have Crabbe and Goyle to defend him and that maybe, just maybe the other boy really wanted to stay.

Then, whilst Harry sat there and listened, his friends told him about what life had been like at Grimmauld Place whilst Harry had been sleeping. How Mrs Weasley had gone around with red eyes, occasionally stopping whatever she had been doing to break into sobs. How Poppy Pomfrey had seemed to pop in from nowhere every twenty minutes or so for the first couple of days, just “to check” on Harry. How Lupin had wandered around as if followed by a huge dark cloud and how the house had seemed to be steeped in mourning. 

Then Eileen had come downstairs all sprightly and steely eyed and she had told all the adults to pull themselves together, including Snape. Had told them all off thoroughly for not being a better support to Harry in the past and warned them all about crowding him when he woke up, which explained the space he’d been given to spend time with his friends.

She had told them, apparently that, whilst Harry was indeed a very special boy, he was also a normal teenager, who undoubtedly missed his friends and needed to be treated like he was normal and not some sort of freak!

And Harry had felt hot and cold all over when Ron had said that. Lying in bed now, trying to sleep even though he was not tired and even though it was only half past ten, he couldn’t help remembering that his Gran, _his Gran!_ had said that he was not a freak. 

That had always been one of Harry’s deepest fears: that when the world saw him as he truly was, he would be rejected by wizards too. After all, they had all looked at him strangely, avoided him, stopped speaking to him when they learned about his parselmouth abilities and when he had conjured his first Patronus he had stunned Professor Lupin, who Harry felt have never quite treated him in the same way after that. The fact that his magic had been so fluky - strong in some areas and weak in others - made him deeply uncomfortable, because he didn’t want to be singled out or different. So Harry had tried to hide his abilities because he didn’t want others to think him strange, not like the Dursleys had.

That had been their word, used over and over since he had been so small that he didn’t remember the first time; perhaps they had always used it in regards to him?

There wasn’t going to be any hiding of abilities possible now though, was there?

Harry had had enough, he was uncomfortable; he punched his pillow and sat up instead. He still couldn’t sleep and he was worried about Malfoy. The boy had seemed increasingly preoccupied as the day had worn on. Once or twice, when Harry had glanced at him, Draco had been staring ahead of himself with shadowed, haunted eyes and Harry had had the strangest urge to go to him and hug him. 

Everyone had gone to bed early tonight because of Draco. Well, and because of Remus too, but Remus had been a werewolf since he was six years old. For Draco, this was only the second time that he had changed and it was obvious to anyone looking at him that he was absolutely terrified. They had all had an early dinner, even though sunset wasn’t until about 8.45pm. Draco’s nervousness had seemed to infect them all. The two men would still not change for hours after sunset, but every one wanted to be up in bed; no one wanted to see the two of them head off to the specially prepared rooms in the cellar.

Remus had explained that he and Draco would not transform into werewolves as soon as the sun had set. In fact, nothing would happen at all until moon rise and tonight, at this latitude*, at this time of year, that would be just before midnight.

Draco had sat trembling as Remus explained all these details in a matter of fact way and Harry had found himself worrying about how well the blonde boy was going to cope with his transformation when it did come.

Harry’s bed was a mess now; he had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours and still he couldn’t settle. The bottom sheet had become all wrinkled up and Harry just could not get comfortable at all. So he clambered out of bed and started straightening the sheets. Ron, who was fast asleep in the far bed (the one pushed up against the end wall), turned onto his back at that point and Harry let out a sigh. Because, just as he thought, seconds later Ron began to snore.

Harry knew there really was no hope for sleep right now because, unless he was asleep already, Ron’s grunts and snorts, as he knew from past experience, were not going to give him any peace at all.

So he found his wand, which he had laid on his bedside table, popped on his glasses and cast _lumos_ to help him find his way out of the room. Harry didn’t really have any plans as where he might go; perhaps a spot of reading in the library might help him sleep? As an afterthought, he quietly opened the drawer beside his bed and slipped out his invisibility cloak. His Gran seemed to have done a very good job of getting the adults in his life to back off, but Harry decided he was not going to take any chances and he was sure that he would get a massive lecture if Molly or worse, Snape, found him wandering about with two werewolves in the house. Even if the individuals in question were safely locked away in the cellar by now.

He didn’t bother being too quiet because an enraged Hippogriff could have rampaged through the rooms and Ron wouldn’t notice once he was asleep, and Hermione and Ginny were almost certain to be asleep by now, plus their room was across the landing with the door shut. And the one good thing that could be said about a drafty old house like this one, was that there were so many creaky boards and ill-fitting windows and doors, they wouldn’t notice Harry creeping by outside.

So he picked up his invisibility cloak and wrapped it around himself; ensuring that every inch of him was covered, he set off downstairs in the direction of the library.

 

*The Latitude and Longitude for London, England is 51. 32N and 0.05W  
While the sun sets in August at about 8:45 pm at this time of year, the moon rise is much later, occurring between at sometime between 10:00 pm and 2:00 am. For the purpose of this story, I went for around about midnight.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Thanks Kim and TQA for your wonderful support.

 

Harry had reached the bottom of the lowest staircase when he heard the door to the cellar slam open. He froze. ‘Oh shit!’ he thought. Had Professor Lupin or Draco managed to overcome the wards or unlock the doors to their rooms? 

He felt his breath quicken; he began to feel a sense of panic, that an angry, uncontrolled werewolf might at any minute confront him and that there was nowhere he could go and nothing to defend himself with. But it wasn’t Lupin or Draco. It was Snape and he was crying.

Harry was completely astonished. He had never thought to see Snape show such emotion, well ever, really. He stood completely still for a moment, trying hard to not even blink. But Snape was coming towards him and there was nothing he could do, he had to move. In his haste to not be in the ex-professor’s way though, he accidentally kicked the foot of a table that stood at the bottom of the stairs. Harry managed to stifle his yell of pain, but obviously Snape had heard something because now it was his turn to freeze. He was just inches away from Harry and looking directly at him. Harry almost shivered, ‘déjà vu, here we go again’ he thought to himself. It was so like his days back at Hogwarts that he had to fight back a nervous giggle. 

But Snape had obviously decided that he must have been imagining things, because he brought his hand to his face and used the back of his fingers to wipe the tears that were still leaking from the corner of his eyes. Harry felt dreadful; he felt like he had intruded on a private moment and, considering that Harry valued his privacy so much, he knew that Snape would be appalled if he knew Harry had seen him crying. So he quietly vowed never to say a word to anyone about what he had witnessed. But Snape had changed direction, he was no longer headed upstairs; instead he made his way to the library, leaving the door to the cellar slightly open.

For a moment or two, Harry debated about what to do. If he went to the kitchen now to get a drink of water, Snape might work out that Harry had seen him so upset. He was not going back upstairs to the thunderous noises that Ron was undoubtedly making by now and the library was obviously no longer an option. But there had to be a reason that Snape was so distressed: maybe Draco was hurt or something, maybe Professor Lupin was? So, clutching his wand tightly, and pulling his cloak more tightly around himself, Harry headed for the open cellar door. 

It was only when he got to the foot of the rather rickety wooden stairs that led to the cellar did Harry hear the soul destroying sounds that Draco was making. ‘Oh God, Oh God,’ he thought frantically. That’s why Snape had left. How could anyone stand this for very long? It was agonising to hear, awful to witness. He could also hear something, which he assumed to be Professor Lupin, thudding against the door of his room. Hmm, ‘room’ was not really very accurate, was it, when he came to think about it? Because when they had been discussing it upstairs, Lupin had made it sound like they would have a comfy little place in which to transform, but these, these were nothing more than cells, weren’t they?

Another scream of despair, almost totally inhuman, chilled him to the very bone. Oh Merlin, Draco sounded like he was in agony and that was with the Wolfsbane, what must it be like without the potion?

Maybe, just maybe, Harry could help? If he went nearer he could call to Draco, let him know that Harry was there. Finally making up his mind, he shrugged out of his cloak and folded it and popped it behind some boxes in the corner of the cellar. Straightening his shoulders, telling himself to be brave, he walked forward towards the nearest door.

Draco was changing. He was in the far corner of the little cell, twisting and turning in some sort of distorted dance of unending pain. As Harry watched his bones seemed to stretch, to warp, to elongate and the creature that was Draco threw back its head and let out another soul freezing scream, whilst to his left, the creature that Professor Lupin had become was repeatedly throwing itself at the barrier that was keeping it away from a young animal in such distress.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He could understand why Snape had left; too much time here, listening to such torture, would send anyone mad.

He wished that he were an animagus, if only he had learned. He remembered once asking Sirius about it. Harry hated to think about Sirius, it hurt. But they had talked about it, just once, one evening when the two of them had been upstairs in this very house.

“What you have to do, Harry,” Sirius had said, “is look into your heart, because that’s where your animal is, in the heart of yourself. It takes ages, though; you have to sort of meditate. That’s why it took us so long. Me and James, we were never good at anything soooo, I dunno, introspective I guess.” He had produced a mock shudder at the thought of introspection, Harry remembered, with a smile. “But if we could do it I bet you could, you’re very good at brooding!” And then Harry had hit him with a cushion and they had laughed. Harry stood for a moment, bathing in the precious memory of Sirius; he was so close at that moment Harry thought that he could almost reach out and touch him.

How could he meditate here though, with that awful, heart wrenching, despair ringing off the walls? 

Harry could not bear it, no one had ever come for him when he was little and alone and in pain, he could not, he would not, abandon Draco.

So he closed his eyes and he focused; he blocked out the sound of Draco’s pain like he had blocked out the taunts of his cousin and friends. Sometimes, when he was very small and locked in his cupboard and hurt or lonely, he had gone deep inside himself to get away. He hadn’t done it for years but it came back so easily that he didn’t even have to try very hard. 

His breathing slowed, his focus went inward and everything around him disappeared. He concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest. He heard nothing else, saw nothing else, he concentrated on the steady thump of his heart, following it, deeper and deeper until… There it was: his animal. He smiled. He knew it already, it was as if he had always known and all he had to do was call it forth.

Harry stood up straight; he kept his animagus form in his mind’s eye. He could see it, smell it, taste it. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slid back the bolt, holding closed the door to Draco’s cell, and opened it. Keeping his movements fluid, he walked inside, shutting the door and bolting it behind him with a whispered spell. Then he gently lowered his wand to the floor beside him and began to move forward.

A pair of amber eyes turned to him and narrowed as they saw the intruder. The werewolf growled deep in its throat in warning. But Harry took no notice and as he determinedly kept moving forward he began to transform.

 

Severus had felt like a coward. He felt like he had abandoned Draco and, if he were completely honest, perhaps he had in a way. Remus had decided that he could not stay with the boy whilst he transformed. Remus was an alpha male, a pack leader. Oh he hid it well, with that air of studiousness and old world gentlemanliness, but in his werewolf form, he could have brutalised Draco, and Remus just could not face that. 

There had just not been time to make enough Wolfsbane for them both, not at full strength anyhow. Draco had had to have his; he could not go through another month without it to help him with the change. He would not be able to stand the pain, the loss of his control, his mind. This they had both decided. But, because of this, Remus’ potion was only half strength; unfortunately that was the best that Severus could do in the circumstances. He had not had enough time, enough ingredients, to brew enough potion for both of them and Remus had enough experience to be able to cope far better than the almost hysterical Malfoy boy. Lupin would cope, he had done it before and he would do it tonight. He would probably keep his mind come the transformation but they could not be sure. So they had talked to the boy, and given him his potions and told him that they would be close by. And then they had left him alone; they had had to. 

Remus had transformed quite quickly and fairly painlessly, Severus thought. Now that Draco had stopped those inhuman noises, he was pacing his cell almost calmly, but earlier he had been frantic. Then Lupin had been throwing himself against the door, growling and yelping, desperately, frantically trying to reach the member of his pack that was in so much pain. 

Draco was a very new werewolf and he was very scared and, as his alteration had begun, the screams that had been rent from him had been seared on Severus heart. Draco had thrown himself at the door too, he had begged and pleaded and as he lost his human voice, long before the transformation was complete, as his words had been taken away he had howled and howled.

Severus had been shaking when he left. He had tried to block out the sounds, the dreadful inhuman sounds, the cries of a creature in agony, terrified, beyond despair. He knew it would take at least an hour more for the change to be complete, as Draco was battling against it with all that he had, and Severus could simply not stand it any longer. So he left them.

Remus had still been howling and throwing himself at the entrance to his cell and Draco had been beyond despair when he had decided that he would come back and sit with the boy when things had quieted down. When he had calmed enough so that he would hear Severus’ voice and hopefully be comforted at least a little. And so he had fled and, as he ran upstairs, he had been surprised to find that tears were streaming down his face.

But now he was back. Draco was quiet at last, though Severus could hear a low growl, coming from Remus’ cell. Even after all these years, Severus couldn’t quite trust Lupin, not after that night when they were both just sixteen. Tonight was even worse, because Severus could not quite bring himself to look at the older werewolf and see the animal in his eyes. It was enough that he could hear him. It did something to Severus on a primeval level, hearing Lupin’s growls; it scared him to the very root of his being. He saw that night when he had nearly been caught, relived his terror, his humiliation.

But Draco he could cope with. He had known the boy since he was a small child, a child he had been very fond of, if the truth were known. Of late he had been very dismissive of Draco, short with him and he felt guilty. Draco was what his parents had made him; he had been overindulged, spoiled. Since he had had Draco as a companion he had been forced to see that the boy had been far more like James Potter than James’ own son was: that arrogance, that selfishness that seemed such a part of him. Even after Greyback, there was some semblance of the old superiority, even though he had become something that he had been taught to hate.

But he needed Severus tonight, didn’t he? Harry, of all people, had reminded him of his duty, and he planned to just be here, near the boy, in case he awoke, frightened or in pain. So he went up to the thick door, reinforced by iron and shot with silver. Both the rooms had been worked on over the past few days in order to protect the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, from the wild animals that Draco and Remus would become. 

He braced himself; he didn’t want to see Draco, broken, in pain. It had been bad enough the first time, the time that Draco had had to be chained. The time that he had had no Wolfsbane, the reason he had been so terrified this month was because of what he had suffered before and that time he had had to be alone, because they had had no potion and they had been on the run.

So Severus felt that he owed Draco and he steeled himself. He crept closer to the little window and peered inside, almost dreading what he would see. But what he did see in that little room rocked him to the very core.

Lying in the corner of the cell, with a huge paw protectively draped over the creature that was Draco, was an enormous lion, with tawny fur and a huge, somewhat messy mane. Severus took a step back for a moment. He checked the bolts on the door; they were still fastened - the door was locked. His brain felt like it had frozen, how could a lion have made it into Draco’s cell? What on Earth was happening? He peered in again in confusion; Draco the werewolf was sleeping. He was curled into the lion, still whimpering in his sleep but nothing like as distressed as he had been only an hour before. The other animal had calmed him, it was purring. At least that was the sound that Severus assumed he could hear, a sort of deep rumbling noise, which strangely enough seemed to give him, Severus, an overwhelming sense of security too.

He looked up and his eyes met those of the lion. They were green and shone with intelligence. And all at once Severus knew what had happened. He had been right; he had heard something when he had fled upstairs. Harry had somehow got past him earlier and then, and then…… But how could he? The boy had become a lion? Harry was not an animagus. Only last night he had promised Draco that he would try to become one, but nobody, no one ever became an animagus after one attempt, surely they didn’t? It took weeks of work, of preparation, sometimes months.

But then Severus reminded himself that this was Harry Potter he was thinking about. Since when did Harry do anything normally? In one night – no, in less than one hour - at one attempt, Harry Potter had become an animagus, a lion. 

And what a magnificent creature he was.

His coat seemed to shine with a gentle golden glow, illuminating the cell. His vast mane was in complete disarray and, if one looked closely, there was a strange marking in the animal’s fur: a trail of white on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightening. His eyes still watched Severus carefully for a moment longer and then he opened those massive jaws in a threatening, protective roar.

Severus was overcome then by a curious mix of emotions. 

He was enormously proud of Harry, proud of the fact that, with no tuition whatsoever, he had managed to become an animagus, a truly stupendous feat of magic that very few wizards ever managed to perform.

He was awed by Harry’s animagus form, no puny rats or mangy dogs for him! It was obvious really when he thought of it, that Harry, being the archetypal Gryffindor, would turn himself into a creature that was everyone’s idea of the personification of bravery. He knew that in the morning when he told Eileen about this she too would be amazed by her grandson’s skill.

But stronger than these other emotions, almost threatening to overwhelm him with its intensity right now, was a rapidly building sense of anger. 

For years this boy, this child, had had no regard for his own safety. He always put others before himself and was incredibly reckless. But this? This went beyond any act of stupidity that Severus had ever witnessed the boy embark upon. 

He understood him a bit better now. He realised that the boy was not really arrogant; he just seemed to have no sense of danger and no belief that anyone would ever help him or indeed want to help him, however much he needed them too.

But walking into a warded room that held a highly dangerous, very unstable werewolf - even if he had been doused with enough sleeping potion to lay out Buckbeak - was the absolute height of stupidity. He was so angry with Harry that he was practically shaking with fury.

Harry had obviously not realised that things had changed: he did have adults in his life who cared about him now. And one of them, this particular adult in fact, was going to punish him so severely tomorrow that he would wish that he had stayed in bed, where he belonged until he was at least twenty-five! Severus wondered if anything he could say or do would get through to Harry now; the damage that the boy had endured to his self esteem to his development of a sense of self preservation was probably too permanent, too extreme.

Not only had he had to cope with the uncaring, downright cruel Dursleys, he had also then had to deal with the foolishness of an old man who seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable for a small boy to wander around fighting the most evil wizard to blight their existence for the last four centuries. But he needed to realise that he was cared for, he was important as something other than a weapon. He had a family now and, for the first time since his mother had told him about Lily, Severus wished with all his heart that he _had_ known about Harry before; when he was in first year or even earlier, when he could have taken responsibility for his nephew and told Albus to mind his own business. Harry would have not grown up with a weird belief that he mattered to no one. Harry would have been loved.

He thought it would kill his mother if she lost her precious grandson right now, and _he_ , Severus Snape, was going to be the one to show Harry James Potter the error of his ways! Come morning, the two of them were going to have a very serious conversation and Harry was going to finally realise what having a family and responsibility was all about.

But it was almost as if Harry lion could hear him at that point because his green eyes glittered in the darkness seeking out Snape’s own eyes and the roar that he let out this time was, if anything, even louder and even more threatening than the last.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Thanks for betaing Kim and TQA

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

Harry stretched. His senses felt like they were on overload. Unknown tastes and smells assaulted him, his sense of smell seemed sharper and more alive than it had ever been, and that was when he realised: he was still a lion. He could feel the strength running through him, he felt powerful in this form; he felt invincible.

He kept his eyes closed but ran his tongue over his muzzle; it was such a strange feeling licking something so warm and furry, but not unpleasant. He tried to identify the smells that assailed him; they were so much aromatic than he was used to. He thought he could smell Mrs Weasley in the distance, he could certainly hear someone pottering about in the kitchen. Professor Snape was close by too, much closer than Molly Weasley, and there was also an animalistic tang in the air - that was Professor Lupin, he was sure. But the most powerful scent assaulting his nose right then was fear, and pain; he could almost taste it, the terror, and it was getting stronger by the minute. 

He knew what it was without having to look, the fear, the pain. It was emanating from the boy he had pinned down on the mattress that they shared; it was coming from Draco.

Finally Harry looked at the other boy. His eyesight was much sharper in this form; he could see Draco’s dark curling eyelashes, the individual hairs on his head, fine blond hairs, the pores on his skin, skin which was currently pale and clammy. The existence of the pain was evident; Draco was very sore from the night before. But Harry couldn’t identify the source of the other boy’s terror - Draco was human again, he was safe. And then he realised what was wrong: Draco was frightened of him.

Harry reacted instinctively. He did not transform back into his human form, he didn’t want to do that yet. He liked being a lion, it was nice, it felt right, it felt comfortable somehow.

Instead he began to purr.

The sound was deep and rumbling, it vibrated in his chest cavity and his throat. And, after a couple of seconds, it began to work; Draco it seemed was relaxing, even if only a little. Harry put more effort into it - he was new to purring after all - but releasing a tiny bit of magic along with the resonant sound, relaxed the other boy even more, the fear was receding. The purring was working. 

Perhaps even without realising it, Draco was snuggling into him, nuzzling into the warm golden fur. Harry thought that this was what it would be like if he had a cub, something smaller than himself, and more fragile relying on him. He felt powerful, protective.

He started to nuzzle back, sniffing Draco turning him gently with his snout, trying to identify the source of the pain.

“Pppotter, what are you doing?” Draco was saying. “Ssstop it!” He lifted his hand and smacked Harry on the nose as he continued to explore his prize.

Then he started to wriggle, trying to get away. He was still a bit scared, Harry could tell. So he tightened his grip on Draco’s torso, and growled gently in warning.

Draco squeaked and stiffened again.

But Harry had identified the source of Draco’s pain; his limbs were aching, his joints sore. Harry had embraced his transformation the night before, but Draco had fought his, tried to deny it. The battle that his body had undergone had wrenched muscles and left them tender and aching too; he was covered in scratch marks from where his nails had ripped at the skin, desperately trying to remove the wiry hair that had rapidly covered him. He had bitten himself as well; some of the bites were deep and still oozed thick sticky blood, even now. If they weren’t cleaned then they would fester, so Harry began to clean them.

Draco tasted tangy, he found. The sweat that lay on the other boy’s skin in a light sheen was slightly salty but the blood had a coppery flavour. Draco was wriggling even harder now as Harry’s leonine tongue laved him. But the fear had gone, and the noises that Draco had begun to make were far more welcome to Harry’s ears: Draco was giggling; Harry was tickling him with the rough, wet surface of his tongue. 

When he had finished Draco lay completely still. He was staring at Harry in wonderment. The scratches and bites were clean now, they seemed to be healing already and Harry thought that the pain had gone too. Draco seemed even more awed than he had before; he lifted a hand to Harry’s head and gently stroked his muzzle. 

“What did you do, Harry?” the other boy breathed. “What did you do to me? The pain, the soreness has gone, it’s all gone. _What are you,_ Harry Potter?”

Harry wanted to say that he wasn’t anything, that he wasn’t special, he was just Harry. But he couldn’t speak in this form; so without thinking about it, without even trying very hard, Harry transformed. The change was even more fluid than it had been the night before. He suddenly felt small and cold and weak; Harry had liked being a lion, it felt right, he felt safe like that.

But Draco’s eyes widened again as Harry returned to himself.

“Oh!” he whispered, “Oh Harry.”

For a while they just lay there, holding each other, trying to keep warm. Draco was watching him, examining him. He did not speak again; instead, without warning, he took Harry’s face in both his hands and began to kiss him. The kiss was firm, insistent. Draco tasted very slightly of blood, he tasted of morning.

Harry couldn’t help himself, he started to respond; the kiss was wonderful. It was nothing like the damp kisses he had shared with Cho, nothing like the sweet gentle exploration that he had experienced with Ginny. This felt right, it was what he had been searching for - the kisses were demanding, tender, passionate, firm and Harry just gave into the new sensations and began to kiss Draco in return.

His senses were still enhanced: he could smell his own arousal, he could smell Draco too. His skin felt much more sensitive, he was lying naked beside Draco Malfoy; he could feel warm, silky skin against his own. He could feel the weight of Draco’s leg as the other boy draped it over his own legs, he was pinned now to the mattress by the taller boy. Draco was in charge this time, Draco was kissing him and Harry was loving it.

He felt his cock fill and harden, pressing against something equally hard. It was Draco. Draco’s cock had filled, he was aroused too. He could still smell him, the scent of the other boy drowning his senses, a mixture of wonder, and lust.

Harry found himself pushed onto his back, Draco covered him with his own larger body as he went to work, forcefully increasing the power of the kiss, demanding entry into Harry’s mouth, running his hands over Harry’s body and, oh Merlin, it felt good.

It had never been like this with Ginny. Never before had Harry been so aroused and Draco seemed confident, forceful. This time he was the one who had more knowledge; he was the leader. So Harry surrendered. He, who always had to hold himself together, who had never really relaxed around anyone before, who always had to plan ahead, wonder how he would deal with things, how he could protect himself. Harry forgot everything and just let Draco take charge, for the moment at least and do whatever he wanted with Harry’s body.

He was awash with sensation. He did not know if it was a left over from his animagus form which had so aroused him, had seemed to unleash his senses, but he could not have fought against these feelings if he tried, so he didn’t try. He allowed Draco free reign to plunder him at will, to have his way, and Draco seized the opportunity that Harry had given him. He ran his hands over Harry’s body, stroked his chest, his stomach, when he grasped Harry’s cock. Harry groaned - no one else had ever touched him there; the touch of Draco’s fist, his warm hand as he stroked Harry was like nothing else, it was amazing. The feeling of arousal increased, grew and Harry lost himself in the new sensations that were bombarding his senses and came with force into Draco’s hand. A moment later and Draco was coming too, he had lifted himself up a little and, all at once, thick, warm sticky liquid was spurting over Harry, all over his legs, his belly, his cock, bathing him in the essence of the other boy. Draco gave a groan and sank down so that he was resting on Harry.

His face wore a smile of sheer pleasure. 

But Harry was in shock.

What had just happened? He could not believe it, he had just had the most amazing orgasm of his entire life. He had never felt anything like that before, ever. He had just had sex with another boy; he had just had sex with Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly Harry felt cold all over, what if Draco had done what he had just done because he thought he owed Harry something? What if Harry had forced him somehow? 

Harry could not for the life of him think why else the gorgeous blond boy would want anything to do with him.

He felt like crying.

Draco must have worked out that Harry was gay and thought that he had to do this - there was no other way that he would want him, was there? Surely not? Draco wasn’t gay, was he?

A sob escaped him.

Draco lifted himself up on one elbow. He had been sprawled over Harry before, in complete abandon, but now he regarded Harry curiously.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Harry did not know what to say. The warm, blissful feeling that he had been experiencing only moments before had completely dissipated; he felt dreadful.

“M’sorry,” he finally whispered. He turned his head to one side and tried to fight against the prickling feeling of emerging tears behind his eyes. He was determined that he was not going to cry.

But Malfoy took his cheek in one hand turned his face back so that he could look at Harry.

“What are you sorry for?”

He looked confused. This close to the other boy, Harry could see him quite clearly.

“You didn’t have to do that you know. I’m sorry if I made you… if you thought you had too..” He couldn’t continue.

Nobody had really wanted Harry like that in a sexual way, had they? Cho had really liked Cedric, he had just been a dalliance because he was Harry Potter, and Ginny had been like that too. She had got bored of him very quickly once they were together; and had gone back to Dean as soon as they broke up. Harry didn’t really mind - he wanted Ginny to be happy - but he wanted someone to fancy him, Harry, and not Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived. 

But why would they? He was small and skinny, and probably quite a disappointment really. He couldn’t even kiss. Draco kisses had been wonderful; Harry had not known that it could be like that. No wonder Ginny was disappointed.

“Potter, what the fuck are you talking about?” Draco asked. “I have been dying to get into your pants for weeks. That was fucking fantastic, what the fuck are you apologising for?”

Harry was astonished.

Draco had _wanted_ to do that?

“You fancied _me_?” he asked in puzzlement. He was looking directly at Draco now, trying to assess his honesty.

“Of course I did, you prat. What do you think the hot sex was all about?”

Harry shrugged, “I just thought that you felt you might owe me something, or you were sorry for me or something. I mean I like boys and I like you but I didn’t know, till now, I’m sorry, could you tell somehow? Did you think I would make you do that?”

He knew he was babbling, that he sounded pathetic, needy, but he couldn’t help himself.

This time it was Draco’s turn to look astonished 

“Those fucking Muggles did a job on you, didn’t they Potter,” he said snarkily.

He regarded Harry for a moment before continuing.

“Listen, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye. Fuck, we have hated each other for years, but that hasn’t stopped me from fancying you. You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Me, gorgeous? You must be mental; turning into a werewolf last night did something to your brain.”

Draco sat up and studied him.

“You really believe that, don’t you Harry?” he said softly. “How could you think so little of yourself?

“Snape said that he’d got you wrong, that you weren’t arrogant, but I thought he was talking out of his arse! I mean how can someone be as powerful as you are, as good-looking as you are, and not know? But you don’t, do you? You really believe that crap, don’t you, you daft twit? Not only do I fancy you like mad, and get turned on by how powerful you are, but I feel safe and protected by you.

“Last night I thought I was going to die. It hurt so much and I couldn’t stop fighting it. They wouldn’t stay with me, even with the Wolfsbane, they couldn’t. Professor Snape said that Lupin wasn’t sure that he was safe, ’cause he didn’t have enough potion and so they left me. 

It wasn’t as bad as the first time - it really wasn’t - but it _was_ bad; it was fucking agony. And then you came. This great big protective lion came into my cell and it comforted me, it made things all right. The transformation didn’t hurt so much when I wasn’t alone and you held me, you held me all night. You didn’t have to do that, you don’t owe me anything. But you did and it made everything okay. Then this morning, you were still there and you hadn’t left me,” Draco’s voice broke then, he stifled a sob of his own, “and I was scared at first, and then you made that rumbling noise, and then you did that thing with your tongue, do you have any idea what that felt like?”

Harry ducked his head again and blushed.

“M’sorry,” he whispered again, letting out a gasp of surprise when Draco slapped him on the arm.

“Don’t you dare, Potter!” Draco snarled. “Don’t you fucking dare apologise for what we just did. You have just let me do whatever I wanted to you; we have just had fucking fantastic sex.” He narrowed his eyes and put his head to one side, “You had never done it before, had you?”

Harry shook his head tightly and blushed even deeper.

Draco smirked. “I thought not,” he said. “You are so fucking innocent that I can’t quite believe it. Harry Potter a virgin.” His smile turned predatory, “My virgin.” 

“Don’t you know what a gift you are?”

He examined Harry’s face. What he was looking for, Harry couldn’t have said for the life of him.

Finally he said, “Are you okay to do this, Harry? With me? Make love?”

He was stroking Harry again, running firm hands along Harry’s arm, trailing over to his chest and down again towards his penis. Harry felt himself growing hard again.

“Oh please,” he murmured. “Please, Draco,” the blond boy grinned again. “I suppose you have never had a blow job, have you Harry?” he asked and Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

 

Harry’s mind was in turmoil, his body was more satiated than it had ever been, but his head was spinning with thoughts, he felt like it might explode. He was lying in Draco’s arms, the other boy had wrapped himself around Harry and he was sleeping. It must still have been very early, but Harry couldn’t sleep.

He kept thinking about what Draco had said, what Draco had done. The other boy had taken Harry’s prick into his mouth and sucked him off. Merlin, he had done far more than that; he had licked him and sucked him, and nibbled at him and run his hands over Harry’s torso and legs and finally when Harry had come he had swallowed it all.

Then he had taken Harry’s hand and placed it on his own hard cock and pushed himself into Harry’s fist until he had also found release.

Harry had cast scourgify and summoned a blanket which had been folded at the end of the mattress. They were snuggled underneath it now.

Draco had told him that sexual orientation didn’t matter in the wizarding world. How could it, when magic was so readily available? Magic could do so much: wizards could use Polyjuice and try being female for a while; children could be born to surrogates. The Patil twins had two fathers, Draco told him; so did Theodore Nott and Ernie MacMillan. Wizards were gay, straight, bi - it didn’t really matter. It was magic that matched up, magic that attracted wizards and witches to each other. Without such compatibility, there could be no union. That was what had gone wrong with Harry and Ginny; it was nothing to do with him, and everything to do with his magic. That’s why Weasley and Granger, who seemed so different, were together - their magic had attracted them, they complemented each other. For sex it didn’t matter really, it wasn’t important, but for anything else, anything deeper; a relationship could not grow or develop unless the magic of the two individuals matched.

Harry still didn’t understand it all, he was still somewhat confused. But at least he didn’t feel disgusting or freakish any more. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he might talk to Professor Snape about it later; ask him about the things that he still didn’t understand.

But right now his eyes felt heavy. He was cradled against Draco’s chest; the other boy’s breath ruffled his hair and Harry couldn’t help smiling to himself.

Who would have thought it, eh? Him and Draco Malfoy. It had been great, it had been brilliant; he had just done something that most teenagers did sooner or later. He had just had his first sexual experience. Warm, cosy, satisfied, Harry started to drift of to sleep and, for the first time in just about as long as he could remember, Harry Potter felt normal.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

A/N Sorry that is has been so long since I updated. I have been away and completing another story and RL has been scarily busy! Thanks to Anne and Branny for betaing.

Warning this chapter has a cliffy, twenty will be up as soon as it comes back from my second beta. If you don't like cliffiess don't read it yet!

 

Nineteen

When Severus awoke, he felt distinctly uncomfortable; he had a crick in his neck and his back felt like someone had tied a knot in it. He really hated these camp beds and was determined that if he could help it, he was never going to sleep on one again. The floor would have been better. The trouble was that these particular beds belonged to the Black household, and Severus thought that maybe Mrs Black herself or one of her odious, twisted house-elves had spelled them so that they could not be transformed. Because no matter how strong the spell upon them, or indeed the caster of the spell, they always returned to saggy canvas and warped metal as soon as their occupant was asleep. 

He stiffly got to his feet, he was not in a good mood, in fact, he was in a particularly bad one. Not a good sign, as he knew he had to have a word with Harry later on, and he was definitely not looking forward to that particular confrontation. 

But first, he thought he would go and wake Lupin. He cast Tempus, to check the time. 6:47 am, well past sunrise. the werewolf was safe to be around again for another month. He made his way to the cell in which Lupin had been locked, and entered. Lupin sat on the mattress, obviously awaiting release. The mattress had just about been destroyed. Severus felt uncomfortable, he found that somehow, he couldn’t quite meet Remus’ eyes.

“Good morning Lupin, how are you this morning?” he asked. The werewolf gave him a tired, wearisome look.

“I feel like I look, Severus,” he said dryly. Severus almost winced, if that were, true then Lupin must really be feeling awful. The year that Lupin had been teaching at Hogwarts, Severus had been the one who would check on the werewolf the morning after his transformation; he had always looked absolutely dreadful; it had usually taken him days to get over the exhaustion that the change always wrought in him. But today he looked worse than dreadful and Severus surprised himself by feeling quite sorry for him.

“I’m, er, sorry that you had such a bad night,” he said. He felt deeply uncomfortable around the werewolf, surrounded by evidence of his terrible monthly alteration. “It’s time to wake Draco,” Severus continued. “But first I have to tell you that,….um….. something happened last night, and I don’t quite know how to explain it.”

“If you mean that Harry spent the night with Draco but only after he had transformed into some sort of animal, and that later, after they were both human again, they interacted sexually, twice; then don’t worry, Severus. I already know.”

Severus’ jaw dropped open.

Lupin stared at him expressionlessly. “I am a werewolf Severus. I might turn into a mindless beast once a month, but I do have an excellent sense of smell.”

Severus sat down heavily on the ruined mattress beside Lupin. He didn’t quite know what to say. The young Mr Potter had obviously had a very busy night indeed! Not only had he managed some very powerful magic, he had obviously been experimenting with Draco Malfoy.

“But he is only seventeen!” he exclaimed, almost wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Remus just looked at him again, steadily.

“We were only fifteen Severus, weren’t we?”

Severus couldn’t meet his eyes again.

“Yes!” he spat, bitterly. “And look how well that ended, _Lupin!_ ”

He made to stand up again, but the werewolf put his hand on Severus’ arm, “Severus, please. Don’t turn away, don’t do this again. It wasn’t my fault. I know you blame me. I would have told you eventually, really I would have. I didn’t want you to find out like that, I swear that I didn’t.”

For a moment, Severus almost relented. He had never loved anyone the way that he had loved Remus. Remus was his first love, his first lover. But then Black had…. Severus did not want to think about it anymore. For a moment he heard the pleading tone in Remus’, in _Lupin’s_ voice. For a moment he almost gave in, let go of his anger, his bitterness, but then he remembered that Lupin had his pink-haired metamorphmagus lover didn’t he. Why would he want an embittered spy on the run from just about everyone? So he roughly pulled his arm from the werewolf’s grip and stood up before he could touch him again. 

“I suggest you pull yourself together Lupin. We so that we can go and wake those boys.”

With that he stalked out of Lupin’s cell, his robe flying out behind him.

 

Harry had a smile on his face. He could feel it spreading, smug and self satisfied. Harry had never in his life before worn a smile like that. Last night, he had lost his virginity. Well not completely, but near enough. He had certainly had sex - hot, passionate, loving sex. And with Draco Malfoy! Harry felt warm and fuzzy and quite insufferably smug. Last night with Draco had allayed so many of his fears. Being gay didn’t seem to be as big a problem in the wizarding world as he had thought it might be. Maybe everyone wouldn’t turn against him, and even when Draco got fed up with him, well at least he would have had the experience.

Draco was still wrapped around him. It felt wonderful, all that silky skin, pressed against his body, warm and soft. Harry felt himself hardening again, and he idly wondered for a moment if he were turning into some sort of sex fiend.

But then the door of the cell burst open, and Severus Snape came barging in.

“Well, well Mr Potter. It seems that some of us had a very busy night last night. Didn’t we?”

Harry blushed a deep brick red and looked away. The expression in Snape’s eyes had wounded Harry. Snape seemed to be infuriated with him; his whole demeanour betrayed his dislike, in Harry’s opinion. He had to firmly quash a tendril of hurt at the Professor’s behaviour. Maybe he was disgusted, or maybe Malfoy was wrong about how the wizarding world viewed homosexuality after all?

“Well I don’t know about you Professor,” drawled a voice beside him. “But Harry and I managed to keep ourselves occupied.”

Snape narrowed his eyes and glared at them.

“I think it is time for you to get up,” he hissed. “I will see you in the kitchen in ten minutes.”

“No.” Harry spoke this time,. He could not believe he had said anything and obviously, from the flare of Snape’s nostrils and the sneer that twisted his lips, neither could the Professor.

“I beg your pardon?” he said in apparent astonishment.

“I said no,” Harry answered. He was still somewhat red from his mammoth blushing session, but he held his chin up and glared back at his former teacher, trying to cling onto as much dignity as he could whilst lying on an old mattress, completely naked, covered only by a somewhat threadbare blanket and being held in the arms of an equally naked Malfoy.

“Draco and I are going to shower, change into clean clothes and, only when we are ready, will we come to the kitchen. You have no power over me any more _Professor._ You cannot make me do anything that I do not wish to do. I am an adult; and no longer your student. Please close the door on your way out. And next time you want to speak to me when I am in a room with the door shut, I suggest that you knock before you enter.”

Snape looked astonished. But he said nothing; he merely turned abruptly swirling his robes, rather like a pantomime villain thought Harry idly, and slammed the door shut behind him.

For a moment or two, neither he nor Draco said anything, and then they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Both of them had had several tongue-lashings from the dour Potions Master in the past, and it felt good to finally be able to stand up to him at last. But once the giggles were over, Harry had to stifle a feeling of deep sadness. He had really thought things were going to be better between him and Snape now. However, the man had looked at him with such anger, such contempt, that Harry knew that things were in truth no easier than they had ever been between them. Snape obviously thought Harry to be pretty worthless, and for the second time in five minutes, he had to quash a tendril of hurt at the Professor’s actions.

 

Severus was pacing the kitchen, waiting for the boys to come down. He could have kicked himself. He should not have gone barging into their room like that. He should have waited until he had calmed down from his little confrontation with Lupin before going to see Harry. When he had snapped at him, he had spotted the flash of hurt in the boy’s eyes at the way he had spoken. He had thought they were reaching an understanding between the two of them, but obviously things were still quite fragile, and he had just trampled all over the delicate trust that they had been building, hadn’t he? 

The room was filling with people as it was getting late, but there was still no sign of Harry or Draco. Molly was busily cooking her way through a pile of sausages and bacon, Eileen had gone into the back garden with a pile of washing that needed pinning on the line and several Weasley’s were sitting at the kitchen table at which Ron was laying out cutlery. The household was waking up and Severus was desperately holding on to the fragments of his temper. 

Harry sloped in refusing to meet anyone’s eye. He sat somewhere about the middle of the table, beside Hermione, and glared over at Severus. Malfoy sat beside him, also scowling.

Severus felt himself sigh.

“Well Mr Potter,” he said as calmly as he could, “You had quite a busy evening, didn’t you? Care to tell us about it?” 

The look that Harry shot him could have curdled milk.

“You have to realise Harry,” Severus continued. “You can’t just risk yourself on stunts such as the one you pulled off last night. You are important in the fight against the Dark Lord, what on Earth would have happened if you had not managed a successful transformation? You may well have ended up as a werewolf yourself, you foolish child! Just because you are powerful it does not mean that you are invincible.”

Severus did not mean to sound sarcastic, really he didn’t. He just wanted Harry to realise that although he was quite impressed by what the boy had managed. He wanted him to realise that Severus worried about him when he threw caution to the wind like that.

Severus had a lot of experience with teenagers, but he had never cared about one before, as he was coming to care for Harry. So, in retrospect, he knew that perhaps he could have worded things a little better, but it was too late. They were out there now, those words, and they _had_ sounded sarcastic. He had sounded like he thought that the boy was only important in the battle against Voldemort, and after their earlier spat, he really should have at least let the boy have a drink of juice and something to eat before he’d said anything. But it was too late now.

Harry’s eyes were flashing; everyone else stopped what they were doing to watch the battle that was about to take place.

Harry stood up.

“I am so sorry, Professor,” he began. “Did I foolishly put your precious weapon in danger? I am so sorry, silly me! But Draco was screaming. He was in agony and I couldn’t leave him alone.”

“Of course you could!” Severus snapped, still feeling rather guilty that he had abandoned Draco as he had. “I did! I had to - there was no other option. You should not have gone into that cell with out at least practicing the transformation beforehand! It was tantamount to suicide! How do you think your grandmother would feel if she lost you now you foolish child? She has just found you again. Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself?”

Severus could hear his own voice rising in frustration; he was getting angry now. Hhe thought of how devastated his mother would be if she lost Harry. He thought with a pang, of how awful he himself would feel, if he lost the boy before he truly got to know him.

The occupants of the kitchen were watching him with astonishment. They had no idea what he was talking about, of course, and the only other person beside Draco who had an inkling of what Harry had risked, of what Harry had achieved the night before was Lupin, who didn’t even know what Harry’s animagus form was.

Harry was breathing heavily. He was glaring at Severus. “How dare you?” he hissed. “You have no right to talk to me like that! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I have been fighting to survive since I was a small child, against everyone, against my relatives, against evil bastards who want to kill me. I didn’t take any risks last night; I was ready before I went into Draco’s cell. I knew I could do it, and I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t bear it. I know what its like.” His voice cracked on the last word.

“Don’t be ridiculous boy!” Severus shouted. “You are not on your own any more. You have us now.”

He saw Harry flinch when he used the word boy, and he realised too late that he should not have said it. Even when he used it in a fairly gentle way a couple of times, Harry had obviously felt uncomfortable. To use it now when tensions were running high was almost unforgivable.

“Do I? I have you now. Well lucky me! I saw the look you gave me Professor when you saw me in bed with Draco, like I was dirty, somehow perverted. That’s how you’ve always looked at me, isn’t it? Like I was filth, not worth very much? You can’t help me Professor, no one can. Dumbledore gave me a job to do and I have to do it, and the only way you can help me, the only way, is by backing the fuck off! By fucking well leaving me alone!” 

The last sentence was shouted, Harry was loosing control. Dishes were beginning to shake on the shelves, the chairs were clattering around the table, some of them depositing their occupants onto the floor.

“Look what you are doing you stupid child! Severus shouted as a glass jar exploded, sending shards all over the floor. How do you expect to defeat the Dark Lord, destroy the Horcruxes if you can’t even control your own emotions?” Severus could see Harry’s restraint slipping. He had to stop things before they got any more out of control

Harry was staring at him, eyes wide, fists clenched. “You know about the Horcruxes?” he asked, quietly. “Dumbledore said not to mention it to anybody.”

“Of course I know about the Horcruxes. How on earth do you expect to destroy them on your own? You can’t control your magic, or your impulses come to that. You have got this far on luck and a lot of hard work on behalf of everyone who has been watching out for you. But you don’t care about that, do you? All you care about is fucking Draco Malfoy!”

As soon as he had said it, Severus wished that he could call back his words. He had meant to tell the others about Harry’s prowess at transformation. He had meant to get the boy to sit back down and listen, and he would have explained how he had decided that Harry should not have to struggle on alone with the destruction of the Horcruxes, that Dumbledore had been wrong to lay such a weight on his shoulders, that despite his recent birthday, he was still so young, still only a child. Then later, he would have taken Harry aside and talked about his relationship with Draco and ensured that he was taking precautions, that he knew what he was doing.

But instead, he had got caught up again in the boy’s resemblance to James and had felt angry at his thoughtlessness, when they were all risking so much for him.

But Harry had gone white. He was trembling. “You told them about the Horcruxes?” he asked so quietly that Severus barely heard him. “Dumbledore said not to.”

“Dumbledore was wrong. You are too immature to cope with such a burden.”

Harry looked then as if Severus had slapped him, his eyes filled with tears.

He had not meant it to come out like that. He had meant to say that Harry was too young, that they would help him, but it had come out incorrectly, confused. Severus wanted to bite his tongue. He hadn’t slept, and he had had to deal with that incident with Remus. He should have not decided to speak to Harry right now, emotions were running too high. He cursed his stupidity, his own impulse control.

“Harry, I...,” he began, but Harry was backing away.

“You told them about the Horcruxes. You had no right without discussing it with me first and now, and now, you’ve just told everyone about me and Draco. Now they all know I’m gay, and they’ll hate me. What did I ever do to you Professor Snape that you hate me so much?”

Harry was crying now, sobbing openly. He was shaking and rubbing the heels of his hands across his eyes desperately trying to stem the tears.

“Why do you hate me?” Harry repeated. “Last night was my first time, and it was lovely, it was beautiful, and you’ve spoiled it, you’ve told everyone.” He had fallen to his knees. He seemed to have forgotten that it was he who mentioned the fact that he was in bed with Draco. Everyone else seemed frozen, horrified by what was occurring. Severus wanted to go to the boy, comfort him, tell him he was sorry.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry screamed as he drew close. “Don’t you fucking touch me! I just wanted to be normal. To have a chance of life before I have to face him, before I have to die!”

“You won’t die.” Severus said. He didn’t understand why Harry was so upset about everyone knowing he was gay - what was wrong with that? “It’ll be okay Harry. You are so powerful, you have every chance of living. We won’t let you face him until you are ready, and then we’ll all be there too. We have vowed to be.”

Harry stood up and looked at Severus scathingly. “You don’t get it do you, Professor? You don’t get it at all? I _am_ going to die. Draco couldn’t kill me, he is not powerful enough, and it would not have mattered if I had been turned into a werewolf, I might not even make it to the next full moon.”

“You want to talk about Horcruxes Professor? Fine, why don’t we do that? There were seven weren’t there, seven parts of soul? One is still in him.” Harry looked defiant, trembling with fury, counting on his fingers. “One was the diary, one is the locket, one was Slytherin’s ring. We think that one is Rowena’s wand, that’s why Ollivander disappeared. Its probably in his shop somewhere. One is Helga’s cup, and that just leaves one more, doesn’t it? Dumbledore thought it was Nagini, but he was wrong.

“Voldemort set out to make a Horcrux the night that my parents died. He was going to use Godric’s sword, in Godric’s Hollow, and he was going to use my death, the death of his rival. He cast the spell, and then he hexed me. But it didn’t work, did it? He didn’t kill me. But he still made the Horcrux because other people died that night, my Mum and Dad died.”

Severus knew he must have looked confused because Harry laughed, coldly, bitterly.

“Don’t you get it Professor,” he said, eyes full of pain. “I’m the last Horcrux. In order to defeat Voldemort I have to die too.”

Someone screamed, Severus thought it was Molly.

“Harry I...I…I’m sorry,” He began, but Harry cut him off.

“Just spare me the fucking platitudes!” But Severus could not bear the look of despair that had crossed his nephew’s face. He reached forward to grasp Harry’s shoulder, and, without warning, Harry transformed.

Severus found himself pinned under the weight of a very unhappy, full-grown, awesomely powerful lion.

Several people screamed this time

Severus literally could not move. He was completely trapped beneath an enormously powerful magical creature.

Harry stared down at him, growling softly. He looked around at the occupants of the kitchen, many of whom were frozen in horror, before he opened his powerful jaws and let out an enormous roar. With no more ado, he turned and loped from the room, leaving Severus in a crumpled heap in the middle of the kitchen floor.


	20. Chapter Twenty

A/N Life is going to be very busy over the next couple of weeks so updates will be slow for a wee while. I will update when I can though. Many thanks to Anne and Branny for betaing

 

Chapter Twenty

“Severus what just happened?” Remus said, shocked.

“Aye, Severus, I’d like to know that too.” This time it was his mother speaking. She must have entered during the argument, because she had obviously heard at least some of it. Her laundry basket was abandoned empty on the floor and she was glaring at him, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Severus sat up, he buried his face in his hands. “What has just happened Mother, Lupin, is that I have royally fucked up!”

Draco stood, but Remus put a hand on his shoulder. “I think you should give him a moment or two Draco,” he said kindly. “He doesn’t quite have control of himself yet. We need to give him some time to calm down before we follow him.”

Draco had tears in his eyes, “You don’t understand,” he said shakily, trembling a little. “What he said was true. Last night was his first time, with anyone. We didn’t do an awful lot, but he was so upset. Those fucking Muggles, they made him think that he is dirty, perverted to like other men. Last night was, I think, the first time he had ever told anyone that he was gay. He was so worried about everyone finding out. He was so strong, he looked after me last night, and now he is all on his own, and he shouldn’t be.” Then Draco’s voice broke. “And what does he mean by what he said? What does he mean he is going to die?”

Severus pulled out a chair and sat on it heavily. He felt that the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and this time, wasn’t it just his own fault? ‘Fuck it all,’ he thought. ‘Harry is a Horcrux. When is the poor boy ever going to catch a chance?’

He looked at Hermione. “Is it true, Miss Granger?” he asked. “Is he a Horcrux?” Hermione’s eyes were glittering with tears. She couldn’t speak, she just nodded. Molly let out a sob and buried her head on her husband’s shoulder. Arthur should have left for work ages ago. Obviously the day was not going well.

“Sit down all of you.” It was Eileen speaking. “Harry is without doubt, desperately upset, and it’s hardly surprising. You have done some things in your time Severus Tobias Snape, but the way you treated that poor lad just then was not your proudest hour, was it?

“He is very upset about a number of things as far as I can see. First off, Severus he thinks you hate him, and from your treatment of him just then, I can see why he might think that. Secondly, there’s obviously something about his relationship with this lad that has made him think that we’ll hate him.”

Hermione interrupted then, with an apologetic look at Eileen, “Not all Muggles understand about homosexuality, some people are very hostile towards it. His uncle probably would have said a lot of things about homosexuality in the past, he almost certainly would have been teased about it by his cousin, even if they didn’t know he was gay. Muggles like Vernon Dursley see it as shameful somehow. Ron and I thought Harry might be gay, but we didn’t say anything in case he got upset. He’s had such a bad time recently, we thought, we thought, we’d wait until things settled down a little bit. Oh poor Harry he must have felt so alone.” She bit her lip. Severus could tell that she was distressed, they all could.

“Thanks love, thanks for telling us,” Eileen said. “I think we’ll just have to show him that we don’t hate him, or his young man,” she said, gesturing with her head in Draco’s direction.

“And finally,” she continued, “there is that thing about the Horcruxes. When I heard him say that my heart just about froze in my chest. I am not losing him now; I have fallen for that boy. I don’t care if he is the Chosen One, I don’t care if he has some destiny to fulfil. You are all clever people, and between you all, you must have an enormous amount of magical knowledge. You are going to put your heads together and sort it out, without putting our Harry under any more stress.

She paused for moment and glared around at them all, the room was totally silent.

“You are going to work together, get over petty rivalries, and find out how to destroy this Horcrux without damaging my grandson and you’ll get to it right quick, or else me dears, you’ll answer to me!”

“Right. I’m going upstairs to see Harry now, and when I bring him down again, you Severus are going to eat some humble pie. Everyone else is going to reassure him that we don’t care a damn about who he likes or who he sleeps with, he’s seventeen after all. I want him to know that we just want him to be happy.”

“Molly, you put the kettle on love. I think everyone could do with a nice cup of tea. Then you can all get your thinking caps on.

“Are we all clear on that then?

Good, I’ll be back soon.”

With that, she swept from the room.

It wasn’t until she had gone and Malfoy stood to follow her, only to be stopped by Hermione’s restraining hand this time, that Severus realised how well the young man looked. Remus was a mess this morning, and Draco had had such a traumatic transformation, he should have looked dreadful too, but he did not. Instead, he seemed fine, healthy and well rested, and Severus wondered what else Harry had done the night before.

He didn’t say a word though, because right now he thought that nobody would want to hear anything that he did have to say. 

Severus was thoroughly ashamed of himself. 

After hearing what Hermione had to say about the attitude of some Muggles towards homosexuality; he had belatedly remembered some of the choicer barbs from his own childhood. But Severus had had his Mother’s world to escape to hadn’t he? Whatever else Severus had put up with he had found acceptance for his sexuality at least. Harry had never had anyone to whom he could broach such a subject; the poor child must have felt as alone in this as he had in everything else. 

Severus knew that he had behaved like a boorish fool and for once in his life he thought, he had no one to blame but himself.

 

 

 

 

‘Harry was still in Lion form when his grandmother entered the room. Unlike Snape, Eileen knocked, and when he didn’t answer, she gently pushed the door ajar and walked in. He heard her intake of breath, and not wanting to frighten her, he reluctantly changed back to his human form.’

“Ee lad, that were magnificent,” was all she said though. “I don’t think I ever seen an animagus form that was as grand as that.”

Harry blushed. He wondered what the warm feeling that blossomed in his belly at her words was, and then he realised that it was the praise from his grandmother that was making him feel all warm inside. But he couldn’t speak. It was as though someone had shoved something hard and unmovable down his throat, and he didn’t think that he could get the words out, even if he tried.

Eileen had moved over to his bed and sat down beside him. She placed her small, neat hand on his back and stroked him gently, soothingly.

“How long have you been keeping that little gem to yourself love? About the Horcrux I mean?” she asked. “How long have you been carrying that around with you, all on your own?”

This time Harry did managed to speak

“Since the first week of July,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh my poor love,” she said, and the next thing he knew, her arms were around him and his head was on her shoulder. “If that old man, was still alive I’d kill him meself,” she said. “Making you think you had to deal with all this on your own. Those others down there may have not been brilliant at supporting you Harry in the past, but I can’t believe that you were told not to tell any of them, my poor, poor love.”

The next thing he knew it was as if some floodgates that he had never realised were closed had magically opened. Harry James Potter, seventeen years and eleven days old, was curled up on his bed, being held tightly by his grandmother as he sobbed as if his heart was breaking. And she, for her part, rubbed idle circles on his back and whispered gentle, loving words.

Later, his eyes felt like someone had run sandpaper all around the edges. Harry thought he had never cried as hard as that in all his life. His head was resting in Eileen’s lap now and her hand was stroking his hair; it felt wonderful, it made him feel safe. Somewhere deep inside himself he felt a memory stir. It was so old, so fragmented. But once, when he was much, much smaller some else had held him like this, long ago in another life. 

“You’re not on your own Harry, not anymore. I’m so sorry my love that I wasn’t there for you before, but I am now, and, even if he is a cantankerous git sometime, so’s your uncle. You don’t think I’m going to lose you now, do you? Not when I’ve just found you? 

“You’ll not face Voldemort until you’re ready, and even then, you’ll not be alone. I’ll not allow it.”

Harry stiffened and looked up at her in surprise. She had said the name of the Dark Lord without a single flinch.

She smiled down at him.

“I’m not scared of the old bastard Harry,” she said. “He has taken so much from me, my daughter, my grandson’s childhood, the ability to trust my son. But not any more Harry. It stops right now it does. He is not having you. Not now I’ve got you in me life pet. 

“Just a few days ago I had come to terms with the fact that I was dying and then you came into my life.

“What you did lad, was nothing short of a miracle and someone with that much power, that much magic, is not going to be destroyed by some spineless murderer. I won’t allow it and neither will Severus.”

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He did not quite believe his gran. He still wasn’t sure that he was going to survive this, but at least he wasn’t alone any more.

“I can hear your brain turning over love,” Eileen continued. “I am a stroppy, bad tempered Yorkshire woman, and I am not losing you lad. You are the best thing to happen to me in years.”

She smiled down at him, and there was such a look of love in her eyes that Harry couldn’t help himself he smiled back.

But then he sobered again immediately and frowned.

“Do you mind though Gran, that I’m gay? That me and Draco um…”

She chuckled, a rich throaty sound.

“Do I mind that you obviously have something going with yon pointy lad? No, of course not. He seems a bit sullen, but I expect I have not seen him at his best with all that werewolf stuff he’s been through lately. He certainly seems bonnie enough, and if you like him, that’s enough for me. Come on now, let’s get back downstairs will we, and see all those fine folk down there? They do care about you lad, and there’s not a one of them that wouldn’t do anything for you if you asked it. They’re a good bunch deep down.”

“The others, the Weasley’s, Professor Lupin, Hermione and Ron, will they hate me? Because of me and Draco?”

She smiled down at him, and stroked his damp hair out of his eyes. “No one here is going to hate you because of who you love, lad. I think we all just want to see you happy. I certainly do any road.”*

Harry felt like a knot in his heart had dissolved. For the first time, in a very long time, a little glimmer of hope awoke in Harry. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be alright? His grandmother had said so after all. He thought of something else. 

“Professor Sna…er I mean your son, he hates me though. He was so angry.”

“I know love, but I reckon that’s cause he was so worried. You gave me a turn too, when Sev told me, you know? Just walking into a room, with a werewolf, believing that you’d been fine, that you’d be an animagus! I don’t think any of us have had your ability to trust that the right thing will happen for a very long time. Certainly not Severus. He is a bitter man your uncle. Life’s been cruel to him, but you lad, have been a revelation to us all. You’ve had a terrible time too and yet, you are so forgiving. You have such a big heart.”

Eileen’s eyes filled with tears. “He says you are just like your Mum. I think that you, my love, have penetrated all those walls that Sevvy has set up around himself, and nobody’s done that, not for years. That sweetheart, is I think, the biggest miracle that you’ve performed so far, melting Sev’s defences. He doesn’t hate you lad, he cares about you, he just has a right funny way of showing it. I think you might just have to lead on this one eh? He’ll teach you dark curses, and how to fight that evil git and together we’ll find a way to over come this Horcrux thing, that I promise you love. But you’re going to have to let him in, show him how to talk to you, cause he’ll never manage it alone in a month of Sundays, silly, prickly sod that he is.” She said it with such love though, such affection, that Harry couldn’t help but smile at her words

She bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Now come on love. They’ll all be fretting over you downstairs, and I need me breakfast.” She took his hand in her much smaller one, just as if he were a youngl child and led him downstairs to face his friends and family.

 

* ‘any road’ is Yorkshire terminology, it means anyhow or anyway


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Thanks Branny and Anne for looking this over

 

Chapter Twenty One

“Fucking Hell, that was awesome! Good old Harry!” Ron exclaimed as soon as Eileen had closed the door behind her on her way out. 

“Ronald!” Molly shrieked, “How can you say such a thing! We have just discovered that Harry is a Horcrux; that he might _die_ , have some respect!” 

Ron blushed, but he tightened his jaw and turned to his mother.

“Look Mum,” he said, “this thing about Horcruxes, it might be a revelation to you, but me and Hermione have known since the first week of July. Hermione worked it out, but Harry was hardly surprised. It’s as if he’d always known, he said, he could feel the thing inside him, the darkness. But he wouldn’t share it, he shut himself off and that isn’t healthy. I’m just glad you all know now, so you can help him, cause I sure as Hell didn’t know what to do!”

Hermione was sobbing, a heartbreaking sound. Her head was resting on the table top, cushioned by her folded arms.

Severus realised at last what these children had gone through in recent weeks. They had known for a month and they had not been able to talk to anyone because they had made a promise. One that against all odds they had kept. With this new information several things were suddenly clear to him. The small improvements in the fabric of Grimmauld Place, the clean walls, the brighter colours, it was obvious now, Harry was trying to make a home. The recklessness too made sense. Harry believed that he had to die and he was desperately trying to grasp the last little bit of life before he did. His heart ached for the boy, it truly did. Yet Harry had sought no pity from anyone had he? He had tried to carry on despite his fears, believing Circe knew what about himself and his value to the world.

Severus longed to sit down with the boy and have a proper talk, without accusations flying, without mistrust and dislike. Harry was his flesh and blood, and Severus would be damned before he would lose the boy now. For the first time, he finally admitted to himself that he had come to care for Harry, and that he was not prepared to lose him.

He cursed Albus’ meddling. The old fool should have told the children that the Weasleys were safe to talk to, because then Harry wouldn’t have had to deal with all the shite that he had to deal with on his own. Who could be safer than them after all? They were loyal to the side of light and had been for years. Molly would die before giving any information to the Dark Lord. After the deaths of Fabien and Gideon, her beloved brothers she would see him in Hell before she told him anything. Arthur, the boys, with the exception of Percy the prig, they all felt the same didn’t they? They loved Harry it was obvious and who could blame them? At long last Severus truly admitted to himself that Harry was, beyond doubt, worthy of their love and respect, it was more a question Severus suspected of whether they in turn were worthy of him. 

He and Albus had argued about it for months, the secrecy. Albus had loved the boy too, there was no doubt about that, but he was an old man, 150 years old, he had no children of his own, no grandchildren. He had less understanding of how things were for Harry than he should have done; than any one of the people gathered around the table did at least. 

In Albus’ mind, Harry was a hero, a champion of the light ready to battle against darkness. And he had been right in many ways, Harry was brave and resourceful and determined and all the things that a hero should be. But he was also little more than a child. A child who had had to grow up too soon, who had never really known love from anyone and yet who had such a giving heart. To abandon the boy, as Albus had, to nothing but the support of two more children was truly unforgivable.

“We must help him.” Severus said into the silence.

Everyone seated at the table turned to look at him. Bill was there, his once handsome face ravished, and Fleur who held his hand tight in her own, tears glittering on her cheeks. Arthur was holding Molly and stroking her hair, her face was buried against his robes and she was sobbing too. Remus was white, shocked, horrified by what he had heard. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco, pale and un-nerved. The twins had gone early, before Harry had arrived in the kitchen that morning and Tonks was nowhere to be seen today. Other Order members were also elsewhere right now; these people were the core of the fight against the Dark Lord, but they were also the ones who truly cared about Harry and not some phantom hero. They had witnessed his healing of Eileen, they knew about the family relationship between him and the boy and now they had seen his amazing animagus form.

All of Harry’s secrets were exposed at last and perhaps finally he would get the support he needed.

“I have been so wrong about him,” Severus continued, “I thought he was like his father, but I was wrong. Oh he has James’ bravery, he is a gallant Gryffindor all right, but there is so much more to the child than that. I keep failing with him, I know what I want to say, but it comes out wrong, twisted. But we need to help him, my mother is right. We all need to help and protect him. We cannot lose him now.”

He couldn’t look at anyone as he spoke. The words that he had used to berate Harry still echoed around the room. They were tangible and he could not call them back.

“I agree, Severus.” It was Lupin who spoke. He was standing behind Severus and he placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Just an hour ago, he would have shuddered with revulsion at the werewolf’s touch, but now he found himself leaning into that support, seeking consolation. 

“The last couple of weeks have been a constant stream of revelations. Harry’s dreadful childhood, and the prejudices that he has had to face, his relationship with Eileen and Severus, the Horcruxes and Harry’s connection with them and now the awesome power that Harry seems to wield. I have never seen anything quite so magnificent as the healing of Eileen, or an animagus as fabulous as that one.” His voice cracked, “Sirius and James would have been so proud of him.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Severus. You have done more for him in recent weeks than anyone has ever done from what I can see. But it’s not enough. I think that Harry is drowning; we need to help him, all of us. Thank Merlin for Eileen; she is one adult that I think he is beginning to trust, one who has never given him cause to doubt her.”

“But we need to help him too. He deserves our support and he needs to be shown that it is there. When he comes downstairs we must assure him that we will always support him, always be there for him.”

“I don’t think he’ll believe you.” Draco spoke this time. The boy was obviously uncomfortable, he sat just beside Ron and his body language showed that he was deeply distressed by the other boy’s presence, but Ron’s features betrayed nothing but openness; he was another proud Gryffindor who wore his heart on his sleeve. Guile and misdirection were two traits that seemed totally unknown to the redhead.

But Draco was ploughing on with what he had to say, eyes staring fixedly at the table, hands clasped firmly in his lap. “I thought that when I got here I’d be hated, that you would all ignore me and push me away and you did a bit. But he didn’t do that. He gave me clothes and he talked to me and he touched me without being disgusted. Even though I have become what I am, he didn’t seem to care. But last night…..last night I was so scared, so lonely and he came to me and he stayed.”

“When he came into my cell, that wonderful lion and held me and protected me I couldn’t believe it. What he did was incredible, an animagus, first go too. A few months ago I’d have hated him for that; I’d have thought he was showing off; I always thought that. But the thing is, that he doesn’t seem to think he’s worth anything at all, he thought that I ….” He stopped here and blushed to the roots of his hair, “he thought that we….that it was a thank you, that he’d forced me. He really does have no idea how…well what he is like, how fucking fabulous he is.”

He lifted his head up and looked directly at Ron. “I know you hate me, I’ve done some really nasty things to you in the past, you and the Mu… _Hermione_ and to Harry. But he has been there when nobody else was, when I thought I was all alone, and he didn’t owe me anything. I’ve never had that, that sort of friendship, not ever. I am not a very good person, but I’m loyal, I’d do anything for him now, anything.” The last word was barely whispered

Ron seemed choked up too.

“Listen mate,” he said, “As far as I’m concerned you have always been a nasty, spineless little shit.” Molly drew in a sharp breath when Ron spoke, but Arthur shushed her and Ron continued, “But I think that Harry has fallen for you. I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you these last couple of days. I’ve known him since I was eleven, and I’ve not always been the best of mates, but I love Harry like a brother. I always thought that it would be him and Gin, and he would become my brother, but Ginny put an end to that.” This time it was Ginny’s turn to blush and look away, “That ain’t ever going to happen now though is it?”

“But me and Hermione want him to be happy, to find someone, to not die.” Ron’s voice was breaking now, and Severus wondered at the strength of this boy, him and his girlfriend who had been doing their best to support their friend against unspeakable odds.

“You be good to Harry and as far as I’m concerned the slate is clean and we start again. But if you hurt him, then I will fucking hunt you down and your death will not be pretty, that I promise

Draco blanched, but he met Ron’s eyes without flinching. “I love him,” he said, “I love him with all of my heart and I think that deep down I have loved him for a very long time.”

The kitchen was completely silent at that statement; no one seemed able to speak.

In the stillness they heard the sound of voices, a Yorkshire burr and a quiet answering mumble. Eileen had done it; she had brought Harry back downstairs to face them all.

Severus’ heart went out to the boy, and he found that he admired him all over again. To come back here after all his secrets had been so spectacularly spilled truly showed his courage, in Severus’ opinion. The door opened and Harry and Eileen walked in. Eileen had the boy’s hand clutched tight in her own. “…..can’t take the views of a few prejudiced Muggles as representative of magical opinion, love.”

Harry stood still, looking at them all wide eyed like a petrified thestral. “Um…er...sorry about earlier.” He said, and the room sprang into life. Molly whirled round and rushed over to the cooker to carry on preparing breakfast, even though it was now mid-morning and would soon be time for lunch. Ron, Hermione and Remus all stood, ready to make their way over to him. But Draco got there first.

Eileen released her grandson’s hand and took a step backwards as Draco drew close and Harry looked at the other boy. What Ron had said about Harry’s feelings was apparent to Severus now too, in fact they must surely be apparent to them all. The look was so naked, so pregnant with need that it was all that Severus could do not to gasp out loud. If anyone had doubted that Harry had feelings for Draco, those doubts would have been shattered.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked with concern, he was standing with his back to Severus and he was taller than Harry by several inches but Severus could see his nephew clearly, “Are you okay Harry?”

Harry bit his lip, and nodded. “Is everyone okay?” He asked tentatively, “about us I mean, er…about me, about what I am?”

“Are they okay with the fact that you are a daft prick Potter, who should have known better than believe a bunch of stupidly prejudiced Muggles you mean?” Harry blushed, “Of course they are! Though they may have had some problems about it being me that you are involved with.”

“Yeah, Harry!” Ron shouted, “What’s wrong with redheads anyway? Charlie’s free right now; he’d have been delighted to take you on!” 

If anything Harry’s blush got deeper, “Oh is Charlie um, er... _gay_ then?” he stuttered, without looking at Ron.

“You didn’t think you were the only one did you Harry?” Draco was saying softly. Harry looked up at him and it was clear in his eyes, in his needy expression that he did think he was alone.

“What do you mean Draco?” He asked softly, “What do you mean about ‘our involvement’?” 

“You don’t think that last night was a one off do you Harry?” Draco asked gently.

Harry looked away and shrugged.

“Dunno,” he said.

“Listen, you prat,” Draco continued, “I’ll have you know that despite my reputation I don’t just sleep with anyone.”

The look that Harry gave him this time was hopeful, shy and somewhat wistful.

“I care about you Harry, a lot. I want to be with you if you’ll have me?”

Harry’s eyes widened he looked stunned. But then Draco put his arms around the dark haired boy and held him close. And there in the still somewhat shabby kitchen of Grimmauld Place, surrounded by Harry’s friends and family. Draco kissed him.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Thanks ladies for all your hard work! 

 

Chapter Twenty Two

It had been a very strange afternoon as far as Harry was concerned; everyone had seemed so different! Professor Lupin had hugged him several times as well as Hermione and even Ron. Mr Weasley had told Harry with tears in his eyes that he was very proud of Harry and would have considered himself blessed if Harry had been his son. 

Harry really didn’t know what to make of it all.

After Draco had kissed him Harry thought that he had probably gone into shock. He had allowed himself to be pulled over to the table and had sat down to eat breakfast as if this were a normal day, as if he hadn’t just ranted for ages about Horcruxes and then nearly squashed Professor Snape.

And yet everyone was being so nice to him.

Draco sat next to him the rest of the morning and just held his hand, in full view of everyone and nobody said a word.

Ron and Draco were even, miracle of miracles, being nice, well _civil_ , to each other.

“Are you okay with this Ron?” Harry had finally gathered up enough courage to ask his friend, holding up his and Draco’s joined hands to demonstrate, as if anyone in the room hadn’t noticed, the fact that he and the other boy were together now.

“Yeah mate, I am” Ron had replied looking Harry right in the eye, “think it’s about time you had a bit of happiness.”

“We are fine Harry,” Draco interrupted, “Weas….er… Ron and I have come to an agreement.”

“That’d be right,” Ron muttered under his breath, almost too quietly for Harry to hear “You don’t hurt him, I don’t kill you. Simple really.”

“Hermione?” Harry said, turning to look directly into her deep brown eyes, “Everyone deserves a second chance Harry.” Was all that she said, but she said it with a smile. She looked a little lighter somehow, they both did. A little less worried, and Harry thought to himself that maybe Professor Snape had been right after all, to tell the Weasleys and Remus about the Horcrux thing. It was an awful strain for his friends to have to carry around such information. To have to keep such a terrible secret.

This time when Harry caught Ron’s eye they smiled at each other and then Hermione smiled too and Harry couldn’t help but notice how blotchy her face had seemed before, with eyes almost as puffy as his own from all those tears. All at once Harry felt blessed. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve friends like Ron and Hermione, but he thanked his lucky stars that they were there for him.

Draco squeezed his hand. The blond boy was still not very comfortable around Ron and Hermione, but Harry thought he would just have to get over that. He liked Draco, he really, really liked Draco, but he was not planning on sacrificing his friendship with these two for anything. Harry thought that he really had not been the best of friends but until recent revelations he had considered that pair to be the only family that he had. The last few months had been horrendously hard, he knew that, but they had promised to stay by him, support him and never once had they wavered. Even when Hermione and he had worked out all that stuff about the Horcruxes, they hadn’t left him, not even then, and for that Harry would be forever grateful.

 

Harry was still smiling at Ron when Severus came and sat next to him. Harry stiffened and the smile died on his lips. The row with Snape had been difficult, hurtful. Harry did not want to fight anymore, he was tired of it.

“Draco, my mother would like a word,” Snape drawled, “and Granger, Weasley, I think that Molly requires your assistance upstairs.”

Draco blanched, obviously wondering what Eileen wanted him for. But after squeezing Harry’s hand he stood and left without a word.

His friends also got up and left with alacrity, with apologetic glances at Harry. He almost laughed. They could face a three headed dog, or a basilisk or evenan irate Buckbeak but Professor Snape in lecture mode was a whole other issue. 

After Ron and Hermione left, Harry realised that it was just him and Professor Snape left sitting at the table and his heart sank.

Harry gripped his coffee mug firmly in both hands almost as if it would protect him from the lecture he was sure was about to come. He wondered where Eileen was, where she had dragged Draco away to. Harry thought he would feel much safer if Draco were around, which was weird in itself because until a couple of days ago the thought of having to deal with both Snape and Draco would have filled him full of dread.

“Harry,” Snape began, “I asked Mother and the others if they would give us a moment or two, because I wanted to speak to you. She has dragged Draco off to help with the dishes and folding the laundry.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the thought of Draco doing housework, and Snape, picking up on Harry’s surprise, smiled wryly.

“Mother thought that it was about time that young man helped out with some of the little jobs around the house, she found out that he knows almost as many dark curses as I do, yet had never used even one simple household charm!”

“But we don’t have very long, and I really did want to speak to you,” 

“Yeah I’m sorry,” Harry blurted, “ I should have said it earlier, but I just lost my temper and I got upset and I’m sorry I jumped you like that, but well, some of the things you said, well they _hurt_ and I know I’m reckless, well and a bit stupid, but I do think about others…”

“Harry,”

“I ‘m sorry, I mean, I knew I was going to be an animagus, because I could see my animal and I needed to help Draco, but….”

“Harry!”

“Well, then the whole being in bed together, well we didn’t really do a lot, well I mean we did, but...”

“Mr Potter, Will you please SHUT UP!”

Harry did. He looked at Snape in astonishment, he knew he had been babbling a bit, but, well, he was trying to apologise.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Snape spoke first

“You do not have to apologise to me Harry,” he said mildly, “It is I who should be apologising to you.”

Harry felt his jaw drop open.

Severus Snape had just apologised to him?

“I’m sorry sir,” he said, “But I must have misheard you or something, erm…did you just say…?”

”Sorry. Yes Harry I did.” 

“I have never been very nice to you, and whilst there were good reasons for me to appear to dislike you in public, I did indeed dislike you very much, with no good cause really. I have often treated you unfairly and for that I am truly sorry.”

Harry felt that his world had completely turned over now.

“But you hate me,” He said simply.

Snape looked at him, intently, and the expression on his face, well he almost looked fond of Harry and Harry knew that could not be the case at all.

Slowly whilst holding Harry’s gaze he shook his head.

“No Harry, I do not, not anymore.”

Harry felt even more unsettled now.

“Look Professor, you don’t have to apologise, I mean I know how annoying I am sometimes, Uncle Vernon said…”

“He was not your uncle Harry, I am.” 

Severus cut in before Harry could start rambling again, “and Petunia Dursley was not your mother’s sister, she was, is, our cousin. My first cousin, your second. She is no more closely related to you than that. Those people who treated you so badly have no rights over you. The Weasleys should factor higher in your life than those dreadful relatives of ours do, or your friends for that matter. They at least have earned your respect”

“You are a most admirable young man, and you did not deserve the treatment that was meted out to you by that odious family. I only wish that I had known years ago what I know now, you would never have been left with them at all.”

“I have come to see in the past few weeks that you are indeed a most estimable person and I have found myself becoming quite fond of you. If she could see you now, Lily would be most proud.”

Harry could not look at the older man, he didn’t want to look at him, he didn’t want to think about any of this really. Eileen he could cope with, because she was like magic herself somehow, she still didn’t seem completely real to him. Oh she did when he was with her all right, but at times like this when she wasn’t around he almost forgot about her, like she was a dream or something.

But Professor Snape was different; he had been in Harry’s life since he was a child, and whatever else happened to him, Snape was the one constant. He hated Harry, always had, and always would, even more than Draco did. Had. Except now apparently he didn’t for some reason and Harry was not sure what to make of it at all. He felt deeply unsettled and uncertain about what to do. So instead he focused on his hands, which were still in front of him on the kitchen table. They had let go of the coffee cup some time ago and were just lying there, holding nothing. They sat like that for several moments, he and Snape, neither of them moving, or speaking. 

And then Harry realised something all at once and it was almost as if his world tilted on its axis, because the evidence was right there in front of him, it was so clear and he could deny no-longer, he knew it was true. It was all true!!

 

Severus watched the boy stiffen up as he spoke to him, heard the sharp intake of breath and the whispered 

“Oh!”

He saw Harry, clench his fists, saw his jaw become tight as if he were trying not to cry and he could not help but wonder what on Earth was going to happen next. But when Harry spoke it was barely audible.

“Our hands” He murmured.

Severus stared at him puzzled.

“I’m sorry Harry, what did you say?”

”Our hands, they’re the same.” 

Severus followed the boy’s glance. A moment ago, when he had finished speaking, he had placed his hands beside Harry’s and the boy was staring at them intently.

“Ever since you told me, I’ve been looking. Looking for a way that we were alike, but we’re not, at least we didn’t seem to be. 

“But I was wrong”

“My hands are just like yours.”

“You really are my uncle, aren’t you.”

The question was rhetorical, it didn’t require an answer. Which was just as well as far as Severus was concerned, because right that moment any answer that he tried to provide would not have been coherent.

Harry was right. Their hands were identical, even down to the length of fingers, and the way their pinky fingers leaned inwards, so as to get close to their next door neighbour, the large knuckles, the blunt pink nails, identical in every way.

“Oh God,” Harry said, resorting to a phrase that was often used in the Muggle world, but rarely in the magical one.

Then all at once Harry’s head had snapped up and he was staring right into Severus’s eyes. Harry’s eyes, his hot green eyes, Lily’s eyes, were so full of anguish that Severus almost gasped aloud.

“Why were you such a bastard to me Professor?” Harry asked shortly. His mouth was twisted in obvious pain, his jaw clamped firmly on his emotions.

He closed his eyes at last and Severus felt a sweet release, which, unfortunately did not last long. 

“My first potions lesson, you looked at me with such contempt, such hatred and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what a bezoar was. How would I know that? I was trying to make notes, so that I didn’t miss anything and you ridiculed me. I didn’t want to be famous or well known; I didn’t even know that I was. I just wanted to fit in, to not be a freak anymore.”

He looked at Severus again. “What my father did to you was wrong and I’m sorry, I am really sorry. But I would never do that, I would never hurt someone, humiliate them, because I know what it feels like.”

He was shaking; Severus thought that the child in front of him was about to fall apart. The depths of emotion that were visible behind a sheen of tears that Harry was so reluctant to let fall, seemed limitless.

“Harry,” Severus whispered, “Oh Harry I have no excuse, I am so sorry, so very sorry.”

He saw again the little boy that Harry had been. He hadn’t been arrogant at all had he? He had been lost and alone and not a little afraid and Severus had torn him to shreds. He had thought the boy to be arrogant, like his father had been, not caring about Severus’ snide comments and sarcastic remarks. But he had felt them, hadn’t he? Harry Potter was just very good at hiding his secrets. 

He wasn’t the simple Gryffindor that Severus had always assumed him to be; the boy, as Severus had found out over the last few weeks, was a mass of contradictions and far more complex than Severus had ever previously suspected!

Harry ducked his head and seemed to struggle with himself for a second or two, but when he looked at Severus again he had regained a little control at least; he had obviously come to a decision. He was shaking still, trembling, he tentatively lifted his arm from the table and held out his hand to Severus to shake, the pathetic attempt he made at nonchalance almost caused Severus to lose control of his own emotions.

“S’okay. S’okay Professor” The boy said, somewhat shakily. 

“Do you think? Erm…shall we start again then? You and me? Hermione says that everyone deserves a second chance and maybe we do too. Maybe we could start over again?”

Severus was completely stunned. Just like that, Harry was offering him forgiveness.

Severus grasped Harry’s hand, the mirror image of his own and held it firmly as if it were salvation. It was smooth and cool and free of calluses. If nothing else, that simple gesture that was awesome in its magnanimity, offered Severus a second chance, one that he promised himself he would not ignore

If he were asked afterwards Severus could not have described what happened next to anyone, ever, but without warning he pulled Harry into his arms and he was hugging him like the long lost precious child he truly was, as if he would never again let him go. 

For what seemed like hours Severus stood there in the shabby, run down kitchen of Grimmauld Place and hugged his nephew, pouring all of his emotions, all of his apologies, all his regret into that hug. And Harry in turn, wrapped his arms round his most hated professor, tucked his head under Severus’ chin and held on tight, as if for dear life itself.


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

Hi there, No I didn't drop off the face of the planet, though I did come close to it!! RL has been a bitch to both me and my betas for the past few weeks, things are back to normal now though, another chappie up in the next few days ~ Lucie

 

Chapter Twenty-three

 

Harry felt as if he had been sucker punched; his eyes filled with tears yet again and he started to get quite annoyed with himself. ‘I think I’m turning into a girl,’ was his last coherent thought, before Severus Snape stood up and rather awkwardly pulled him into a clumsy embrace.

This time Harry did not pull away; he was not worried that Snape was about to jump him. It was somewhat uncomfortable, because Snape was quite bony, not padded like Mrs Weasley or tweedy like Professor Lupin. He smelt of cloves and of tea-tree oil, and lavender and lots of other things that Harry was unable to identify. 

And Harry thought that today really was turning out to be unique because he had had more hugs today than he had ever had before in his entire life.

“What do I call you?” he asked, his voice muffled against Snape’s, against his _uncle’s_ chest.

When Snape answered him he could hear the rumble of his deep voice. It almost sounded like the other man were smiling.

“I think you are probably a bit old to call me Uncle Severus, don’t you?” he said. “How about Severus, just Severus?”

“Not Sevvy then?” Harry asked cheekily. Severus moved so that he was grasping Harry’s shoulders and then held him at arms length. He was about to say something acerbic, something cutting, but he saw the glint in Harry’s eye and the slight smile that graced the boy’s lips and he couldn’t help but smile in return. Harry was trying to joke, to lighten the atmosphere; his nephew was teasing him.

“You may call me that - if you want to spend the next ten years cleaning out cauldrons,” he answered silkily.

Harry’s smile widened.

“Well, there is a sight for sore eyes!” It was Eileen who had spoken. Her eyes were dancing and she looked happier than Severus had ever seen her and, considering the revelations that they had heard that day, she really should not be looking as cheerful as she did. But she was a fighter, his mother, wasn’t she? Despite what she had been through over the years, Eileen never, ever seemed to give up. She always fought for what she believed in and, despite the secrets that she had kept from him, Severus knew that she had never completely given up on him either. He suddenly realised where Harry, and indeed Lily, might have got their dogged determination.

Harry turned to look at her and then hurriedly moved out of Severus’s reach in order to go and relieve his grandmother of a pile of unwashed clothing. But she pre-empted him by the simple manoeuvre of handing the pile to Draco who was following her closely. Severus almost laughed; he had never seen Draco look quite so disgruntled before. The boy’s normally immaculate blond hair was somewhat dishevelled and his face wore an enormous scowl. 

He had already been clutching a not inconsiderable amount of dirty clothing and he all but disappeared when she added to the bundle that he was carrying. “Take that to the pantry, lad,” she said, “and start sorting it, light colours, dark colours and whites. When you’ve done that, you can make a start on the dishes. I’ll be with you very soon.”

Severus wondered what she had said to Draco to get him to acquiesce because Severus expected a comment or a simple refusal. But, apart from the fact that the scowl got even deeper, Draco said not a single word.

Instead, he stomped off in the general direction of the pantry wobbling a bit because he couldn’t really see where he was going very well.

Eileen turned to her grandson.

“Will you sit down a moment, love?” she asked. “I want to talk to you.” 

Harry had been watching Draco’s departure, but turned to smile at his grandmother and went and sat at the table with alacrity. Eileen sat beside him.

“I need to ask you something, Harry,” she said. Harry was studying her face, shyly, surreptitiously through his lashes.

“Harry,” she continued, “what did you do to help Draco get over his transformation so quickly?”

Harry blushed. It was the blush to end all blushes as far as Severus was concerned; deep red and seemingly all encompassing.

Several other members of the household had arrived as Eileen spoke, including Lupin. They had obviously heard her words and were standing listening eagerly for Harry’s reply.

Harry fixed his gaze on the table in front of him.

“I can’t tell you that!” he exclaimed.

“Harry, the lad looks great today, he looks better than he has in weeks, and yet look at poor Remus, he is obviously suffering still. If you can help him too, lad, then maybe you should?”

The boy looked horrified.

Harry’s eyes took in the werewolf, seemingly for the first time. Lupin truly did look dreadful; his face was drawn and he was obviously in pain from wounds that must have been inflicted the night before. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, he had not shaved and his hair was a complete mess, even messier than Harry’s, and considering the fact that Lupin was always very well groomed, even if he was also a bit shabby, was more telling than anything in Severus’ opinion.

“Oh God, I’m sorry Professor!” Harry muttered, staring back at the table again. “I don’t know…I’m mean, um…er…but ……” He trailed off and looked even more embarrassed. 

Eileen spoke again, after a short silence from Harry. “Harry love, what did you do?”

Harry eeped and then he spoke very fast, so that he words all ran together, “hewashurtingsoIsortoflickedhimalloverwithmyliontongue.” 

Eileen looked mystified.

Harry seemed ready to bolt.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “you will need to say that again, because we all missed it; you spoke too fast.”

“He washed me.” It was Draco; he had come out of the pantry and was leaning against the door-jamb with his arms folded.

Ron was listening in on the conversation too, “What did he wash you with?” he asked. Draco smiled, quite evilly, “He washed me with his tongue, Weasley!” 

Now it was Ron’s turn to blush but Harry was trying to curl up on his chair, he was obviously completely mortified.

Ron scowled. “Yeah, and I’m sure he really appreciates you telling us all this, Malfoy, because really likes sharing his private business with the entire world!”

“Harry was helping me, you git!” Draco began. “He was a lion! It wasn’t like that!”

“That will do!” It was Eileen again; she was frowning at them both. The two boys were glaring at each other, but they quietened at Eileen’s words. “I’m sorry love,” she said, turning to Harry again. “I didn’t mean to pry, it was just, what you’ve done lad is remarkable. You have a gift and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it, however you use it.”

She put her hand under her grandson’s chin and gently tilted it. “Will you show us, pet? Show us what you look like as a lion?”

Harry’s eyes betrayed his relief. Severus had realised in the last few weeks what a private person Harry was. Having such an intimate thing, so casually discussed, must have been excruciating for him. The boy gave his grandmother a tiny smile and then without more ado he smoothly transformed.

This time there were no screams.

There were gasps and sighs, though. Harry was a good looking boy, he attracted a lot of attention wherever he went just because of his fame and recently he had begun to exhibit some of the raw power that he wielded. He was impressive and attractive as a wizard. But as a lion he was magnificent.

One by one, tentatively, the occupants of Grimmauld Place made their way over to Harry. Draco was first; he was not fazed by the lion at all. Then Ron, then Hermione, Ginny, Molly, Lupin. Each one drew closer and could not resist touching him, it seemed.

Only Severus and Eileen held back.

Severus was not afraid, he had seen this creature very close up, had felt the power, the strength in those enormous paws. If Harry had not hurt him then, when the boy had quite understandably lost control, then he was completely safe now.

Eileen came over to her son. He was leaning against the worktop, having retreated here when his hug with Harry had ended to better observe the proceedings. But now his mother came and stood beside him and linked her arm in his and together, just for a moment or two they stood mother and son in complete accord watching Harry.

“Thank you, Sevvy,” Eileen said, she squeezed his arm gently and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for what, Mum?” he asked, she looked up at him wryly. “Thanks for finding him, for looking after him for so many years, even when you hated him. Thanks for making up, thanks for a lot of things. I’m right proud of you, sweetheart.” Severus felt a lump forming in his throat. His mother had never stopped loving him, he knew that. But Eileen was a very direct person and very honest. 

Although the Princes were a well bred pureblood family, things were different in Yorkshire; they did not keep themselves apart from other folk, from those who were not well off. The county got into your blood. Eileen was typical of many women of her age, Muggle and magical. She worked hard; she was blunt and straightforward and had a very strong moral code. She would never abandon her son, he knew that, or stop defending him to the world, but she was not above tearing into him if she thought he was in the wrong. She also never, ever praised someone if she felt it was unearned and she had not praised him like this for a very long time.

“Can you see that he is glowing, Sev?” Eileen said, still keeping her gaze fixed on Harry’s animagus form. “He lights up this room doesn’t he?”

“I think it’s his magic,” Severus said, “We have all just come to realise how magical he is but in this form you can truly see it, he can’t contain it all, that is why it is leaking out of him, that is why he is glowing; the sheer amount of magic that must be available to him to even achieve this form and then to have so much left over?”

“We will save him, won’t we, Sevvy?” Eileen asked, and Severus was unnerved to see the worry in his mother’s eyes, hear the tremor in her voice. “He can’t die, Sevvy, it’s just not right!” 

Severus lifted his arm and draped it around his mother’s shoulders, giving her a gentle hug. “We’ll do something, Mum,” he told her comfortingly. “We had a huge shock when he told us about the horcrux, I know, but there has to be a way to destroy the horcrux without destroying the vessel. We will not lose him.”

Eileen looked up at him, giving him a watery smile. Severus rarely saw his mother this upset. No, make that never. 

“I think I see how he managed to heal the Malfoy lad,” she said. “Just look at the magic pouring off him; there’s got to be some power of healing in him. Do you think he’ll let me take a bit of his fur? I’d like to have a closer look at it.”

“Mother dear, I think he would let you do just about anything you wanted to him.”

 

Severus was brewing in the small lab that Harry had encouraged him to set up; this was the place in which he was happiest. Eileen had joined him and was busy sorting the little bits of fur and mane that she had taken from Harry’s animagus form.

Harry had spent some considerable time rolling around the kitchen floor like an enormous kitty cat as his friends rubbed his furry tummy and tickled him behind his ears. Thereby eliciting the loudest purrs that Severus had ever heard on Harry’s part and choruses of squeals and giggles from the others.

Harry-lion had cheered every one up. The lion was able to be playful in a way that the boy obviously could not, and seeing him batting a hastily constructed cat toy made from some of Molly’s copious supplies of wool had had everybody laughing.

After watching the children (for that, Severus reminded himself, was indeed what they were) playing with the big cat he realised something else about Harry. All these years he, and indeed everyone else, had underestimated Harry, hadn’t they? Everyone, with the possible exception of Dumbledore who had his own opinions about Harry, only some of which bore any resemblance to reality; Harry’s animagus form was apt in another way that had escaped Severus’ notice when he had pondered it earlier.

People saw him as a pussycat. Goody, goody. Tamed. But Harry commanded more raw power than Severus had ever seen he could kill them easily, just like the big cat could with one swipe of its claws. Voldemort still underestimated Harry, as did his minions and that in the end would be their downfall. Harry, if he wished, could be deadly.

 

The boy who stuck his head around the door of the potions lab did not look dangerous, though; he looked deeply uncomfortable. But he smiled when he saw his gran and Severus was glad that Eileen was here.

Harry was clutching something to his chest and it took a moment or two before Severus realised what it was: it was a book, even more battered than when he had seen it last; it was his old potions book.

Harry came fully into the room and walked determinedly over to the bench at which Severus was standing.

“I’m sorry Pro…er Severus,” he said, holding his head high and looking his uncle straight in the eye, “I lied to you last term, I did have your book. I’m sorry, but it meant a lot to me!” He looked defiant this man-child, daring Severus to reprimand him. 

Eileen had wondered over to see what they were talking about, drying her damp hands on a towel as she came.

“Oh Harry,” she said in delight, “that’s me book, mine and Sevvy’s, wherever did you find it?”

“I had it last year,” Harry said, “It got lost for a little while, but then I found it again. It helped me more than you can know. I felt like the person that had written it could be my friend, someone I would like and get on with. It grew quite precious to me.”

He was talking to Eileen, but he was looking at Severus as he spoke. Severus smiled he felt that they had shared some sort of understanding him and this boy. When he had first seen the book Severus had felt a surge of annoyance, he had known that Harry had had the diary, known that he was lying when he denied all knowledge of it. But it was truly meant for him, wasn’t it? It was his book after all.

Eileen was busy expressing her delight that Harry possessed her potions diary and she was telling him a story about how she and her friend Min were able to write secret messages in it using an invisible ink that they had created between them. Before long she and the boy were deep in conversation and then Harry was helping his gran chop ingredients and asking intelligent questions about the interactions of certain ingredients and Severus felt yet another pang of regret.

Watching Harry chop and dissect and question his gran on a number of different things, Severus wondered if Harry might have shone as a potions student if only he had been given the chance. But then he firmly put his doubts behind him and settled for just enjoying the fact that three generations of his family were together, working alongside each other in a potions lab and it was more wonderful than he could ever have dreamed it to be. 

And, whilst Harry and Eileen spent the afternoon adding small samples of lion fur to various different types of creams for healing, Severus busied himself by brewing a batch of wolfsbane using ingredients which had arrived only that morning. He had long wondered whether he could create a potion, using the basic recipe for wolfsbane which could be improved so much that it would hugely improve the efficacy of the potion or even remove the need for it all together. 

In a clear glass tube just beside him, Severus beheld what he thought might be the missing ingredient, the one that he had been searching for all these years: a sample of magical saliva taken from a lion animagus.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

A/N This chapter contains a first time sex scene.

 

This chapter is for Kim, the fastest beta ever! Love you babe ~ L

 

 

Harry was curled up on his bed with his eyes tight shut. His head was pounding - had been for a couple of hours - and his gran had sent him upstairs to lie down for a while. It still struck Harry as strange that anyone would care about him and his welfare. Well, anyone adult at least; Hermione and Ron had looked out for him for several years now.

He was trying to get the events of today straight in his own mind. It had indeed been bizarre, even by Harry’s own bizarreness scale, which was admittedly ever so much higher than anyone else’s. 

He had never blushed as hard as he had today. He’d thought at one point that he would explode with embarrassment; he still felt hot when he thought about how he had told the entire household that he had licked Draco. He was so stupid sometimes. How could he have said that in front of everyone? 

He should have taken Severus aside and just told him. He would still have been embarrassed but it would not have been as bad, as uncomfortable as that.

He still did not know how he felt about his newly discovered uncle. He had hated him for such a long time. Severus had been horrible to him for years, but. 

But. 

He had apologised. He had told Harry that he was sorry, that he admired him. He had been nice to him and to Harry that was a revelation. Uncles didn’t do that in Harry’s experience. They hated you, despised you and you could see it in their eyes, in the way that they looked at you; the disgust that was evident in their every action and never went away. 

And yet Severus didn’t look at him with disgust anymore, did he? Even when Harry had taken his potions book downstairs to the makeshift lab, he had been sure that Severus would be angry, and just for a moment his face had tightened when he saw what Harry had with him, but he had not said a word. It was so far outside Harry’s experience of life with his relatives that he felt quite lost.

He kept saying his uncle’s name in his head, because it felt so strange and he didn’t want to get it wrong. He didn’t want to call him Snape by accident, didn’t want to fracture this strange accord that seemed to have developed in that last few hours; it was too new, too fragile.

The door to Harry’s bedroom opened quietly. Harry peeked through his lashes to see who had entered. He had not minded giving up his room to his gran, but he did miss the privacy his first ever bedroom had given him. Although he was used to sharing a room with Ron and was deeply fond of him and although he was also becoming very fond of Draco, he had wanted to be by himself for a little while, just be alone with his thoughts.

It was Draco who had come in.

He put something away in his bedside table and then sat on his bed and regarded Harry.

“I know you are not asleep,” he said.

Harry kept his eyes shut.

“Look Harry,” Draco continued, “I have spent a lot of time over the past few days watching you sleep, I know what a sleeping Potter looks like and this isn’t it! Are you alright?” His voice was soft, concerned.

And Harry felt that the day had just achieved a few more notches on the bizarreness scale. Draco Malfoy was offering comfort, concern?

Harry was still wary of Draco. Earlier, when Draco had held his hand, had kissed him, held him in front of everyone, Harry had felt that maybe Draco did like him. But then the thought had struck him that perhaps Draco was doing this to ensure that Harry kept him safe. He still couldn’t believe that Draco liked him for himself, not deep down. 

Draco was gorgeous, and he had always despised Harry, hadn’t he? Why would he change, just like that? Why was everything so different all of a sudden? Draco, Eileen, Snape…Severus!

Harry sighed. 

“M’tired,” he said, in a slurred voice, “so tired.”

But he did need to talk to Draco, didn’t he? He needed to tell him that he didn’t owe Harry anything. He sat up. “I’m sorry Draco,” he said, “it’s been such a long day, such a lot has happened. I just feel a bit drained, y’know?”

He ducked his head; he couldn’t look at the other boy; he had to ask his questions before he chickened out. He knew that he was falling for Draco and it scared him. It was so much deeper, so much more intense than what he had felt for Ginny, for Cho. If what Draco had told him earlier wasn’t true, if he was just using Harry, then Harry knew it would destroy him, completely.

“Draco,” he said. His voice was quiet. “Why do you suddenly care about me? You never liked me. You don’t have to do this. I won’t turn away you know, I’ll protect you, I promise. You don’t have to pretend.” His voice cracked on the last word, he couldn’t continue, he couldn’t have spoken another word, not if his life had depended on it.

But then Draco was there, right beside him. Harry could feel the other boy’s hot breath on his cheek. Draco’s hand cupped his cheek and when he spoke his voice was as soft as snowfall.

“Oh Harry!

“What do I have to say to you? How can I make you understand how I feel? I know we haven’t always got on you and me, but fucking hell, Harry!

“I got you wrong, you know? I’ve told you this already. You don’t know how much last night meant to me, how safe I felt, and I haven’t felt safe, protected for such a long time. You do keep me safe, you will protect me, I know that, but I feel so much more for you. 

“For _you_ , Harry, not Harry Potter, not who I thought you were, not the Chosen One, not someone who could bring me power or influence. I…I used to be like that, but this last year. It’s been hell for me, Harry! And I’ve been so alone, so lonely. I’ve changed. My life has changed.

“You came for me when I thought I might die. You looked at me as if I were special, and I never thought I would ever feel special, wanted, ever again.

“But you are not listening are you? Or, it’s not that you aren’t listening, it is as if something stops you from seeing yourself as you really are.

“You are beautiful, Harry.

“So beautiful!” The last word was barely a word; it was a breath, a sigh.

“If you can’t hear me when I tell you how gorgeous you are then I will have to show you, won’t I?” Draco said, and it sounded as if he were smiling. He took Harry’s head in both his hands and looked at him steadily for a moment or two. Harry almost couldn’t meet his gaze, so caring was it; he thought that he could see Draco’s soul in those shimmering silver eyes.

“I love your smile, Harry.” Draco kissed his lips, gently, tenderly. “I love your nose, it’s a fine nose, straight and true, just like you are,” _kiss_ “Your chin shows your determination.” _kiss_ “Your eyes, hmmm,” _kiss_ , are the colour of emeralds, deep,” _kiss_ “multifaceted, unfathomable.” _kiss_

“Your hair is wild and untamed, it makes you look freshly shagged, like you have just fallen out of bed,” _kiss_ on the forehead this time, just beside the scar.

“Your neck, so delectable!” _kiss_ Draco proceeded to undo Harry’s shirt pushing it off his shoulders, he licked Harry’s collarbone and then kissed that too. “Your chest is so strong and smooth,” _kiss_ dragging the shirt out of the waistband of Harry’s trousers and undoing his belt. Pushing him, unprotesting, down on to the bed, pulling down the zip and inserting his hand into the gap, cupping Harry’s cock which was hardening rapidly at the sudden interest that Draco was showing.

“Your nipples,” _lick, kiss, suck_ , “both of them,” _nibble, luck, suck, kiss_. “Your stomach,” _kiss, kiss, lick, kiss_. Draco carried on working his way down Harry’s body, worshiping him with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

Harry felt like his brains had turned to mush; he couldn’t think anymore, he could only feel. There was only now, only these overwhelming sensations, nothing else but Draco’s hot mouth on his body, the moist clever tongue.

He couldn’t seem to speak anymore either, only whimper.

Draco had dragged his trousers off, his boxer shorts, his shirt was mostly off too; for all intents and purposes, for Draco’s purposes anyway, Harry was naked.

He had no coherent thoughts any longer; Draco had discovered erogenous zones that Harry didn’t know existed. How would he know how sensitive his inner thighs were? Or his instep, the tender inside of his foot that Draco was currently nibbling?

“Draco,” he croaked, “please!” 

“Please _kiss_ what _kiss_ Harry?” Draco asked.

“Can you, you know, can you _do_ me. _You know_.”

Draco’s head was suddenly level with his own again and he was staring into Harry’s eyes. “Do you want me inside you, Harry? Are you ready?” He felt Draco’s hand on his chest, holding him in place, branding him with Draco’s touch.

Harry just nodded tightly. He was ready, he wanted to lose his virginity and he wanted Draco to be his first. He wanted Draco to be his only, but he wasn’t ready to admit that yet, not to anyone. Harry knew that there was no coming back for him, he had fallen for Draco and he had fallen hard.

He heard Draco accio something which flew out of the other boy’s bedside cabinet, smacking the flimsy door open with a loud crack. He grabbed Draco’s wrist, he was here on the bed, completely naked, and someone could come in and see them. For a moment he almost panicked, it was as if he could no longer speak properly but he managed to grind out two words, “The door!”

Draco kissed him again, a gentle kiss on his bare stomach. “It’s alright Harry, I locked it. We will not be disturbed, not this time!”

Mollified, Harry relaxed and gave in. He felt Draco lift him, gently tilting his hips upwards and shoving something soft under his backside and then something else was pushed inside him, something cold and thick and glutinous, something warm and insistent was applying it. Draco’s finger.

“It’s alright Harry, it’s just some lube,” Draco said as Harry flinched away from the coldness, from the feeling of something different, something alien inside him. “Girls make their own, you know,” Draco was telling him in a silky voice, “but we need some help!”

Harry felt slightly indignant. Of course he knew, he was about to say so but then….. “Guh!” All at once, he found that he could speak no longer; possibly not ever again.

Draco had inserted another finger and more sticky lubrication. He was pushing the fingers into Harry, gently at first and then more firmly. It was cold, the gel-like substance and then there were three fingers inside him. Harry gasped. It _burned_ but only a little, it _hurt_ but not too much. Not more than he could stand and then Draco was beside him and Harry could feel something much bigger than fingers pushing at his entrance.

Oh fuck, it hurt so much! He was being stretched and the ring of muscle around his anus was tearing, he was sure it was! He started to panic, to breathe harder, but Draco was soothing him, stroking his thighs, telling him how wonderful he was, how special and then, all at once, the resistance was gone and Draco was inside him and Harry screamed.

He felt so full, impaled on this rock-hard thing buried deep inside him. He writhed and inside him Draco moved. The cock that was filling him was withdrawn and then forced back inside him once, twice, three times. His arse felt like it was on fire burning up and then, and then Draco brushed against something inside him and it was as if fireworks had exploded in his brain.

He was awash with sensation, pain and pleasure, undreamt of pleasure surging thorough him.

“Oh fuck, Harry! You are so fucking hot! So tight!”

Harry looked up at him at Draco’s face, that perfect, exquisite face. The features that had seemed sharp on Draco as a child were stunning now, Draco’s head was thrown back and Harry could an expanse of pale throat. Draco’s eyes were closed, his expression blissful, for a second or two Harry watched him and then Draco thrust inside him again and Harry was lost in a sea of ecstasy. Finally, after what felt like forever and yet no time at all, Draco was coming hard, inside him, filling Harry with warmth. 

He felt possessed, treasured, owned.

Then Harry was coming too, harder than he ever had in his life, clutching the sheets in his hands, arching his back, he was being swept away.

 

Draco was holding him; he had pulled the blanket around them both and wrapped his arms around Harry. He placed a kiss on Harry’s head and laid his cheek against Harry’s hair.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you Harry.”

But Harry could not speak; his throat seemed blocked, his eyes burned. Today had been too much for Harry. It was all too much, he felt like he had been washed clean, like everything familiar had gone for good and been replaced by something new. _Someone_ new.

Draco was curled around him, his legs entwined with Harry’s, his arm wrapped around his waist, contented, blissful. His breathing had slowed; he was asleep.

Harry swallowed, he was trembling slightly and tears were streaming unchecked down his cheeks and pooling by his ears. He let out a deep shuddering sigh. He couldn’t move from the bed, he didn’t want to move from the bed. He placed a gentle kiss on the arm that was draped around his shoulder.

“Oh Draco,” he whispered, “I think I love you too.”


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

A/N ~ and so the story moves on. This chapter is pretty intense in places, it is not fluffy like the last few chapters - just be warned!

My betas are both back! Missed you girls I'm glad that RL issues are a bit better now

 

Twenty-Five

Severus was applying the salve to Lupin’s back. He had protested, of course, because he did not want to be this near to the other man. To actually have to touch him was almost unbearable. But who else was there? The effects of the new formula had to be observed and there was no way he was letting this beast anywhere near his mother. 

But he didn’t want the creature too close to him either, did he? He could not let him get too close ever again. Severus had built his walls so strong and tall for a lot of reasons, but a major one was the man in front of him right now.

He was steadfastly trying to ignore his discomfort and, deep down, the stirrings of something else when the werewolf spoke.

“How is Harry, Severus?” Lupin asked, “Did you talk to him?” 

“Whether I talked to Harry or not is hardly any business of yours, Lupin! He is my nephew and my relationship with him is between us. I am not about to dissect it with anyone who shows a tiny bit of curiosity.”

Lupin flushed. “I am hardly just anyone, Severus,” he said, valiantly trying to defend his rights. “I am his parents’ oldest friend! Their only friend left, come to that.” This last statement was so quiet that Severus barely heard it.

“Well you did a very poor job of protecting him, didn’t you?” Severus sneered. 

Remus whirled around and then winced at the pain in his shoulder, which he had wrenched quite badly the night before. His face twisted in a wry smile. “We all did a very poor job, didn’t we Severus?” he finally said, keeping his head bent from then on and avoiding looking at Severus.

Severus finished the remainder of the cream in the jar he was holding, smoothing it over the shoulders of the werewolf. He thought that for someone who took little exercise as far as he knew, Lupin was surprisingly well muscled. He berated himself for thinking such thoughts and rubbed the potion into the wounds that marred Lupin’s back far more harshly than he had first planned. The werewolf bit his lip and kept silent.

The salve really did seem to work like a miracle cure; Severus could see the skin knitting under his ministrations, the redness left by the scars rapidly disappearing and he could not help feeling a little excited. Never, in all his years as a potions master, had he known anything with quite this potency. He even felt quite hopeful about the wolfsbane. He wasn’t about to tell Lupin about a possible breakthrough, however, well not yet at least. Besides he wasn’t working on the improvements in order to help Lupin, was he? He was trying to look after Draco that was all.

He had finally run out of the creamy yellow ointment; he idly wondered whether the sample of fur that he added to it had had that effect, had turned it yellow? He had some more potions on the dresser so he went to fetch one and promptly fell over the large sledgehammer that was leaning against the side of the cumbersome piece of furniture.

He didn’t hit the ground, he recovered himself quite well and then he turned to see that Lupin was trying – not very successfully, in his opinion - to hide a grin. Severus bristled.

“I suppose that you think it funny that I almost broke my neck?” he snarled.

“I’m sorry Severus,” Lupin replied, “but you do so love your dignity and you did look funny!” 

Severus scowled. “Why would anyone be foolish enough to leave something like this lying around anyway?” he asked grumpily.

“It’s Harry’s, I think,” Lupin replied evenly. “You have been walking past it ever since you arrived, and you have not fallen over it before. Is something distracting you?”

Severus felt himself blush.

“He should have put it away before now! Why would he want to have the wretched thing anyway?”

“I believe that he and Ron were using it, when they demolished the wall on which Sirius’ mother’s portrait used to hang. That’s how they uncovered the cellar door.”

Severus hardly felt mollified, but he decided to at least try to be civil. As far as he was concerned, that was as much concession as Lupin was going to get.

“I wondered what had happened to that miserable cow.”

“Apparently Harry had had enough of her ranting about Sirius, so one day he just demolished the wall. Luckily that particular wall was not a load-bearing one, and they found a better entrance to the basement because of its removal. I don’t know if it helped him much in the end, he still misses Sirius dreadfully.”

“Yes, well! He has Mother and me now! He doesn’t need that mangy mutt of a godfather any longer!”

Lupin looked at him sadly. “That comment was beneath you, Severus.” 

Severus harrumphed. But he walked back to where Lupin was sitting with the retrieved salve. “I need to do your chest, so I think you had better stand.”

This time he was gentler, but Lupin refused to meet his eyes. Severus rubbed extra ointment into a particularly large gash in Remus’ chest. He could feel the other man’s breath on his face, warm and gentle. The scent of Lupin, a somewhat musky, woody scent surrounded him and sank into his pores, to his skin. Lupin smelt of the wild. 

They had not been this close for a long time. He should have told Lupin to apply the salve on his chest himself; he should not have allowed himself to be so near. He made the mistake of looking at Remus, only to see brilliant amber eyes watching him closely. They were unfathomable those eyes and they did not blink.

Those lips were so pink and promising. Tempting.

Severus leaned in, just a bit closer. Remus tilted his head very slightly to the side. They were both breathing hard. He could feel Remus’ chest rise and fall beneath his hand. He closed his eyes and found himself being drawn inexorably toward the other man.

“Oh really Ron, Ginny is old enough to make her own decisions and she has liked Dean for a long time.”

“But Hermione….”

The two men sprang apart.

Hermione stopped her entrance and looked at them both, her eyebrows raised slightly. Severus was mortified to find that he was blushing.

“You had better get your shirt back on Lupin,” was all he could say, “you might embarrass your little _girlfriend_ otherwise, when she deigns to return.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Sorry Professor Snape, Professor Lupin. Are we interrupting you?”

Severus harrumphed again.

“I’m no longer your professor, Miss Granger, and neither is Lupin; I am getting very tired of being incorrectly addressed.”

“Look _Mr_ Snape,” Ron said, “we have been calling you Professor for the last two weeks _Harry_ has been calling you Professor for the same amount of time. Well, the bits in which he was awake anyway! Why are you getting in such a snit now, for crying out loud?”

Severus flushed again. He was, as Weasley said, in a snit. But this time he was determined not to take out his temper and - he admitted it himself if no-one else - his feelings of attraction, his awareness of Lupin, his frustration, on anyone else. He had not been forced to spend so much time with the creature since they were at school. Even the year that he taught at Hogwarts, Severus had barely seen him. But here in this house, the man seemed to be around every corner, in every room that Severus entered. And much worse, as far as Severus was concerned, Lupin seemed to matter to Harry.

He knew he was being churlish and bad tempered, but he could not seem to stop himself.

“Call me whatever you like, boy!” he snarled, whirling on Ron, before storming out of the room. To do so he had to pass Lupin and he saw the werewolf’s nostrils flare. He knew well what the man could smell: Severus’ arousal.

He stayed upstairs in his tiny room for more than an hour. It was cramped up here amongst the eaves, but the space was his alone. He felt very grateful to Harry for securing it for him; sleeping on a camp-bed in the library had done nothing for his temper or his self-esteem. 

He lay on the bed for a while and stared at the ceiling and thought about things. He had very nearly kissed Lupin then. What the hell was he thinking? Lupin was engaged to Andromeda’s brat and whatever Severus was, whatever he had done, he was not about to barge into the middle of anyone else’s relationship. There was no doubt that Tonks – stupid bloody name if ever he heard one – loved Remus very much. But, if he was truthful with himself, he loved Remus too, had done ever since he was fifteen years old.

It had nearly killed him when he had found out about Remus’ lycanthropy. Not just the fact that if it had not been for James Potter, he would have literally been torn apart. But also the tiny detail that Remus had never told him; not once, not in all those weeks together, had he said a word about the fact that he turned into a rampaging beast every month.

Maybe it had slipped his mind? Maybe he had not considered it important? Maybe he had not considered _Severus_ important. Whatever it was Re…No Lupin. Lupin. He had to remember to call him that, even in his own mind; otherwise the werewolf might sneak in past Severus’ defences again, like he almost had tonight. When they had nearly, when they had almost… Severus shook his head. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to think about _him_. He hadn’t done, not for years, not until this last week or so.

If only Lupin had told him. Would things have been different? Would Severus have accepted a werewolf lover? Like Harry had done, without a qualm? Or would he have rejected him, pushed him away? Severus would have liked a chance to make that decision.

But he was not going to think about this now. Eileen wanted them downstairs for Harry’s birthday tea. She had been furious when she found out that his birthday had passed without acknowledgement, his seventeenth birthday at that. Not that it was anyone’s fault exactly that Harry’s birthday had passed without celebration. The boy had been unconscious for most of the last few weeks. 

They were not able to do much at such short notice, but Eileen had organised the Weasley twins to sort out some things and Molly had made a cake. They had cobbled together some presents and detailed Draco to keep Harry occupied; a task that he seemed to be uncommonly good at, considering the fact that neither of them had emerged from their room for the last three hours.

So he put on his mask again - the one that stiffened his features and told the world that he was cold and unfeeling. The mask that was showing a few cracks these days but still held firm enough for now. And he went downstairs to join the celebration of his nephew’s coming of age.

 

Harry was smiling. 

He was smiling more broadly than Severus could ever remember; he had even laughed a couple of times. For a little while he looked like a normal teenager. He and Ron were currently throwing something called _Cheesy Wotsits_ at each other. Severus thought that the wotsits looked particularly noxious and imbued with nasty muggle chemicals. He thought that throwing them at each other was probably a better idea than eating the dreadful things. 

Hermione loved them apparently, but Severus didn’t think that was any reason to inflict the appalling rubbish on the rest of them.

Harry had shocked them all, yet again, when he had told them rather shyly that it was his first ever party. That the colourful rubber objects that were it seemed called balloons were something he had always wanted as a child and never had. He hadn’t even opened the small pile of presents yet he was still too enamoured with all the other attractions.

He was seated at the head of the table, on the birthday chair. This was apparently a Weasley tradition. The child whose birthday it was got to sit on a chair, which was specially decorated with crepe paper that changed colour, and streamers and copious amounts of bizarre balloons, all of which had Harry’s name scrawled across them.

“Right, my loves, time to dim the lights,” Eileen’s voice floated in from the pantry and at once the torches burned low as she walked through the door carrying a magnificent cake which was lit with the glow of seventeen candles.

Then came the strains of the time-honoured song, “ _Happy Birthday to you…_ ”

It was sung with gusto if not in tune and Severus was surprised to find his own eyes prickling with tears as he watched the joy and astonishment on the face of the young man in front of him.

Eileen placed it on the table right beside Harry and everybody cheered. “Well go on love,” she said, “blow out the candles, make a wish.”

Harry’s smile widened and he closed his eyes to prepare to do just that.

The front door flew open with a crash, almost coming of its hinges with the force of the blow. It was Moody and a group of Aurors; they were armed, their wands out and they looked ready for battle. Kingsley Shacklebolt was with them and a number of younger men that Severus didn’t know. They knew him though. 

 

“There he is!” one of them shouted, pointing at Severus. “Seize him, before he gets away!”

“No!” It was Harry. He had somehow moved from his seat whilst everyone else was reeling from shock and dashed towards the intruders.

Moody was bellowing, “Azkaban has been breached tonight! What did you have to do with it, Death Eater?” He moved towards Severus purposefully with a murderous expression written clearly on his face. Severus was under no illusions about what would happen if he went with these men: he would not be back in a hurry.

Then Scrimgeour came in behind his Aurors. He hesitated for a moment, sparing a look of disgust at the shabby surroundings and then he fixed his sights on Severus. 

Severus wondered idly at what they would have said if Old Mrs Black’s portrait was still on the wall or what she might have said to them.

He almost laughed; he was thinking of daft old biddies when Scrimgeour’s minions had finally arrived. If he was honest with himself then, he wondered what had taken them so long. Moody had been waiting since the day Harry had made him give Severus and Draco their wands back, biding his time; well obviously his time had arrived!

Severus moved forward. He didn’t want his mother to see him being arrested with force. If he went with them without showing any resistance then maybe they wouldn’t manhandle him too much in front of Eileen. 

Draco however, did not move. He resolutely looked at the floor as if searching for salvation in the cold gray stone.

“Back off, Moody! All of you, just leave them alone!” It was Harry who had spoken, Harry who moved to stand in front of them, between Severus and Draco and the Aurors.

“He is a Death Eater, Potter! He was instrumental in getting The Dark Lord’s men out of Azkaban and then he’ll be coming after you.” The grizzled old Auror was snarling at Harry.

“Moody, that is complete and utter bullshit! Do they do a course at Auror School in talking total bollocks?

“Severus has not left this house for the past three weeks and he has been here all day, working on potions and helping…trying to help, me celebrate my birthday.”

“He hates you Potter, you foolish boy!”

“No. He. Does. Not! And do not call me _boy!_

“He is my uncle, my closest living flesh and blood male relative. He will not hurt me, he is on my side. He has defended me and looked out for me since I was a child.

“He had to be seen to hate me; it protected his cover, he was very important as a spy.

“If you try to take him from here tonight, then first of all you have to go through me!”

The air around Harry crackled with power. He did not even have his wand - that lay unattended on the dresser - but several Aurors backed away from him anyway.

Severus was astonished. Harry had just insinuated that the hatred that he had displayed for Harry was all pretence, when he knew, they both knew, come to that, that for many years it had been all too real. Harry had just staunchly defended him against the Minister for Magic.

The total shock that settled over the faces of Scrimgeour and the Aurors would have been funny if the situation was not so strained.

Severus’ hatred of Harry was legend amongst the Order, he knew that for certain, but Harry was still protecting him, and he didn’t look likely to budge anytime soon.

Scrimgeour had halted, he seemed confused. There was no way he was going to tell his men to attack the Hero of the Wizarding World. 

He caught sight of the bright decorations, the pile of presents, the group of people gathered round and his face paled. He took a look at Harry’s expression and paled some more. He had realised, Severus guessed, that he had miscalculated. This infringement would not look good in _The Daily Prophet_ and there were far too many witnesses to cover up his intrusion on the Chosen One’s celebration.

Severus knew the expression on Harry’s face all too well; he had been on the receiving end of it often enough. Harry was not about to budge anytime soon. That fierce determination meant that nothing that the other men did or said were about to change his mind.

But Harry was continuing.

“Severus is a hero, he has given up a lot, he has risked his life time after time for this war and I will not have him insulted in our own home.”

“But he killed Dumbledore!” Moody roared, indignantly.

“Yes he did,” Harry agreed. “But at the headmaster’s order. He did as he was told and I have evidence of that. You are not taking him, not tonight, not ever.” 

Scrimgeour’s eyes shifted to take in Draco.

“Draco is my lover; you are not having him either!” Harry gaze challenged the Minister. It was steady, strong, unyielding.

The impasse might have lasted all night. Scrimgeour might have prevailed, or he might have given up and gone home. They would never know.

Because, just then, the Floo flared open and two battered figures fell through, badly dishevelled and covered in blood. 

One of them, a woman with dirty long blonde hair flying loose, almost obscuring her features, was barely conscious. She was reaching out as if seeking salvation, as if trying to break her fall. It was Narcissa Malfoy. 

The other figure drew screams of terror the instant she was recognised: long black hair, tangled with fair, mad, staring eyes. 

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry was at the hearth first, instantly ready with a curse on his lips, but he stopped suddenly. His back was rigid, he seemed horror struck. Finally Severus rushed forward too; it had only been a second that he could not move., but with Bella, however, even that was more than long enough.

Bella was falling, slowly her body was collapsing, her arms wrapped securely around her semi-conscious sister, her mouth wide in a silent scream.

Harry stopped, did nothing, he was standing watching her fall, Severus looked at him with puzzlement, for a moment or two and then he looked again at Bella.

He let out a guttural shout of astonishment. Her features seemed to be melting, her face was transforming. Her hair was growing shorter, her nose shrinking, her cheeks rounding and becoming pink. She was changing, faster and faster. And Harry had seen the changes first. That's what had halted him. Harry had been closer, watching carefully whilst everyone else had been looking elsewhere.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Remus ran forward, he almost got there in time; he almost caught her before she fell. 

Almost.

The two women crashed heavily to the floor and something fell out of Narcissa’s hand to land with a light metallic sound at Harry’s feet. Her eyes caught the boy’s for just a moment and then they rolled up and showed only white, before her head fell forward and she slumped onto the cold stone floor.

The metamorphmagus - for it was indeed she and not Bellatrix who had brought them here - saw nothing; her eyes had not been staring madly, they had been blank. They would not see anything ever again; they would not dance with laughter or cry with sorrow. Nymphadora Tonks was dead.

The room erupted, screams, shouts, panic. The aurors seemed dumbfounded, they looked to Scrimgeour for advice, orders, but he seemed as frozen as the rest of them. They seemed helpless in this sudden mayhem these brave defenders of the magical world.

“Merlin help us all!” Severus ground out. For if this was the only defence that they could offer against the Dark Lord, then they were truly all doomed. 

Draco was screaming for his mother. Ron had held him back when the woman they had thought to be Bella had come through the floo. But now his jaw dropped as he witnessed her rapid transformation back into her real form. He released the screaming, squirming Malfoy. Draco was across the room before anyone could stop him and on his knees beside his mother, stroking her hair, keening. Still Harry had said not a word. Severus turned to the boy; he was worried about how his nephew would deal with such sudden unexpected death.

“Harry?” he began.

Harry ignored him, he was staring at something that he held in his hand, it was a piece of jewellery, a necklace.

“What?” Severus said. Harry’s eyes met his, his gaze steady, fierce. That look, it silenced him, he could speak no more. 

“It’s a horcrux, Severus,” he whispered, so that the aurors would not hear. “They’ve brought me a horcrux. It’s Slytherin’s locket.”

Then Harry too stopped speaking and turned to look at Lupin. Draco was cradling his mother, whilst he frantically checked her over. Lupin held his fiancee tenderly, tears rolling down his cheeks unchecked. Then the quiet that had fallen over them all of a sudden, as everyone watched the crazed scene that was taking place, was shattered by a long, primeval howl of utter grief and despair.


	26. Chapter Twenty -Six

A/N I am back! A heavy dose of life and a certain angel kept me from Eileen's story! I will have to go missing occasionally in the next few weeks but I hope that this will be finished by July. 

Thanks Kims for betaing

 

Twenty-Six

Narcissa looked like a child. She sat in bed propped up by pillows and Draco lay cuddled up against her. Her eyes met Severus’ as he walked into the room.

She smiled at him, weakly. The blood that had been smeared in her hair had been washed away by Molly and Eileen, and her wounds soothed by the salve that they had made only the day before.

If it had not been for that salve and for the little boost of healing that Harry had given the unconscious woman, then they might have lost her too, but right now she looked better than Draco did. 

If any one of them had doubted how much he loved his mother, then they would have changed their opinion tonight; Draco had been inconsolable when he had thought she might die. Harry had kissed him, then gently pushed him out of the way; he had placed a hand on Narcissa’s abdomen and the two of them had glowed with a similar iridescent light to the one that had been generated when Harry healed Eileen. Narcissa’s ragged breathing had slowed and become deeper and more normal and Poppy had pronounced the woman safe to take upstairs. 

Draco had insisted on carrying his mother himself and Severus had just been glad that Arthur had dragged Scrimgeour and the assorted aurors who had accompanied him into the adjoining sitting room - Severus rather thought that far too many secrets had been shared tonight already; he wanted to speak to Narcissa to find out how much the woman knew about the prize that she had brought them.

So far the only people who had known about the horcruxes were those of them actually living at Grimmauld Place. That meant the Weasleys, Granger – but she and Ron had known for a while and had not said a word – Lupin, Eileen and, of course, Tonks. Severus wondered if the girl had been tortured and had told of the Horcruxes. Maybe he had been wrong to tell so many people? Severus felt the familiar heaviness of guilt settle around him; he had to speak to Narcissa and find out what she knew. 

He could not believe that he was still here and safe that the aurors had not taken him. Harry simply would not let them.

Harry had surprised him yet again that night. Just when he thought that he fully understood the boy, Harry would do yet something thing else that he never would have predicted.

His discussion with Rufus Scrimgeour earlier was a case in point. 

Severus wasn’t exactly sure he would be able to describe what had happened between his nephew and the Minister for Magic if anyone asked him, or how Harry had managed to send the man away so thoroughly cowed, but he had and without having to threaten or raise a blow.

After Draco and Narcissa had left the room in the charge of Eileen, Harry’s next immediate worry had been Lupin. It had only taken the boy mere moments to heal Narcissa, but in that time Scrimgeour had ordered his aurors to drag Lupin away from the dead body of his lover and restrain him.

Harry was furious and he had rounded on the Minister.

“How dare you! You come barging in here, endangering me, endangering my family, endangering our place of safety. Then instead of apologising for the mayhem, you turn on more members of my family!

“Attacking my uncle wasn’t enough for you. You now turn on my parent’s oldest friend! He is grief stricken! His fiancée is dead!

“Are you completely stupid or what?” Scrimgeour looked stunned at Harry’s words; he actually flinched when Harry called him stupid and started backing away from the firecracker that Severus’ nephew had become.

“Calm down, boy!” he said. “The werewolf is out of control, and your uncle is a Death Eater and a murderer. These are difficult times, child, and you are not safe here with these people. When Dumbledore was alive at least, you were safe, but they cannot be trusted. You are still very young you cannot be expected to have enough experience to be able to tell who can help you in the year ahead.”

When Severus looked at his nephew’s face he could see the anger there; the boy was barely containing his temper. 

“I am not a child,” he said, quietly controlled. “I have been hunted and forced into battle since the age of eleven. I learned a lot over the years and I have found that, on the whole, I am a good judge of character. I can tell who are the right people for myself!

“I did not choose this war - it was forced upon me when I was still a little child! But I will be victorious, I will not let Voldemort win. I do not care about power, Scrimgeour, but I do know that I have it and, if you keep pushing at me, then I will stand up to you and I will do it publicly and who do you think the wizarding world will support? You, a career politician who is not terribly popular, or a so-called boy hero, tragically orphaned at an early age and, apparently, bravely soldiering on?

“Support me, give me what I need and stop throwing your weight around like a bully, and I will not speak out against you. You can have your glory as far as I am concerned, but keep treating me and my family like this and I will have no choice.

“My uncle was forced to kill Dumbledore, by Dumbledore himself. It put my uncle in a perfect position to spy for our side and it protected me and prevented Malfoy from being forced into murder. He did his duty, however distasteful he found it, and he would still be with Voldemort if it were not for the fact that he could not stand by and watch Voldemort destroy yet another life. Severus Snape is a brave and honourable man and it is about time that everyone recognised it!

“You are not taking him with you, and if you try you will have to go through me.

“If my Godfather could be condemned without a trial to twelve years in Azkaban, I am not taking any risks with my uncle. You can set him free now and I’ll take your promise in writing.”

Harry stood as tall as he could. He barely came up to Scrimgeour’s chin in height, but somehow, right then, he seemed monumental. As wizards, they could all sense Harry’s magical power now; there was sense of it a tingling in their bones. But the force of his personality was even stronger. Harry had been hailed as a hero since the day that he had been attacked by an evil wizard when he was still a baby and yet, right now, there was no doubt that Harry had truly earned the mantle that had been forced upon him. 

For a long moment the ex-auror glared at Harry and Severus guessed that not many men could meet that steely gaze without flinching.

But Harry could.

Severus had often heard of ice being described as blue. But the ice that seemed to sparkle in Harry’s eyes was green. Green ice.

They were so expressive, Harry’s eyes. Over the last few weeks Severus had read a myriad of emotions in them, from joy to uncertainty, from sorrow to tenderness. But right now they were hard, unwavering. Harry was not going to give Scrimgeour an inch of slack in which to manoeuvre and Severus was quite simply astonished. Severus had seen Harry’s power, his incredible bravery, but he had never seen him behave in such a way before.

Harry seemed to know exactly how the wizarding world viewed him and, moreover, be entirely happy to use those misconceptions for his own gain. Of course, there had been a time when Severus would have accused the boy of using his fame to gain preferential treatment, which was exactly what the boy was doing right now. But Severus could hardly complain; Harry was, after all, using his power to protect Severus, and he was doing it in a way that was almost Slytherin.

Severus wondered how many layers made up Harry’s personality. Just how many hidden depths did he have?

Harry had given Scrimgeour his terms and then he calmly waited for the man to crumble. And crumble he did.

Oh, at first Scrimgeour had spluttered and fumed. He had muttered on about boys getting above themselves and not being all that important in the grand scheme of things, and needing to ensure that they did not overreach, but Harry just raised one eyebrow and waited until the man calmed down.

Finally Scrimgeour nodded; he looked diminished, defeated. “You can have what you need. I will leave Snape alone. The pensieve testimony will be made public and the Malfoy boy goes free.”

Severus could not believe it. Just like that, after all these years. He was sure he looked like an idiot standing with his mouth open.

He wasn’t alone; the seven aurors that had crashed into their home earlier all stood watching closely too. Scrimgeour had miscalculated again. He had undoubtedly expected Harry to be easy to bully into submission, though where he had gotten that idea, Severus had not a clue. He just knew that trying to force Harry James Potter to do something that he didn’t want to do, something that clashed with that overdeveloped conscience of his, was rather like trying to stuff a wild goat into a string bag.

But Harry had won. Scrimgeour had made all the concessions, not Harry, and Severus realised what an amazing man his nephew had become.

“Right, let’s go. Let’s get out of here,” Scrimgeour said, turning to the assembled aurors and getting ready to leave.

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Harry said coolly.

“No one is leaving here until they have been obliviated about this location. This is my home and my sanctuary I am not giving it up because the security has been breeched because of one man’s jealousy and paranoia.”

Harry glared at Moody as he said this and Severus was astonished again when the other man could not quite meet Harry’s eye.

“I don’t think that I can allow you to leave knowing the location of my house. You’ll have to be Obliviated.”

Scrimgeour looked like he was barely holding his temper now.

He spluttered, “I…you…want to Obliviate my aurors? Obliviate _me!_ ”

“Oh no,” Harry replied, “I’m nowhere good enough to just remove the relevant information; I don’t have the skill and I don’t want to damage anyone. My uncle will have to do it.”

The look on the minister’s face could only be described as completely and utterly stunned. The man was dumbfounded. He was opening and closing his mouth looking for all the world like a stranded fish. 

This time Severus knew that Scrimgeour would never acquiesce, not in a million years. Allow the filthy Death Eater spy to get anywhere near his precious aurors with a wand?

But he did. He gave in immediately, seemingly without even a fight.

Severus thought that if he lived to be 150, he would never forget the sight of seven powerful, Ministry-trained men lined up like lambs waiting for him to obliviate them.

And Harry just stood with his arms crossed and watched the proceedings.

Once all of the intruders, apart from Kingsley and Moody, had been through the magical procedure to which the Minister had agreed, Fred and George agreed to help their father escort the rather confused men away.

Kingsley stayed because he wanted to be there for Tonks.

He told Severus that he had been the one to kill Bellatrix; they had caught her several weeks ago, during a raid on a family of muggles and she had been caught in the crossfire. Tonks had been asked if she would spy, disguised as the insane Bella, and had managed to pass herself off on five separate occasions. But this time obviously her luck had run out. Kingsley looked devastated. 

“It was my idea,” he whispered. “It’s my fault. She was so young, she should have had her life ahead of her. How did you do it, Severus? How did you stay undetected for so long?”

Severus had been surprised by the respectful tones that Kingsley used when he spoke to him.

“I never suspected you, Severus,” he’d said. “When I came on tonight’s raid, it was to try and protect you somehow. Moody has had it in for you for a very long time and I have known that you were on our side since that night you appeared in the kitchen with Harry and saved him. But I had suspected before that. You don’t deserve this sort of treatment. You are a brave man.”

Severus had flushed then.

Such praise from Kingsley, who was himself a very brave man, was unexpected but very heart-warming.

“Mind you, I needn’t have bothered, need I? Harry seems to have this situation under complete control, doesn’t he?”

He grinned over at the boy, showing perfect white teeth against his smooth, dark skin.

There was no doubt who was in charge of the little confrontation that was taking place between Harry and Moody. The old auror was much taller than Harry and outweighed him by at least a couple of stone But Harry was standing very close to the older man and berating him for his actions and Moody stood there, hanging his head like a recalcitrant five-year-old, occasionally peering at Harry through shaggy brows. 

They could hear the occasional phrase from Harry’s tirade: “..letting your irrational dislike cloud your judgement.”, “you are the one who can’t be trusted if you carry on like this…could have ended in disaster…..one more chance, that’s all!”

“He really is the Chosen One, isn’t he Severus?” Kingsley continued. “He isn’t a child any longer. When you brought him back that time, he looked so broken and battered, I thought defeat was imminent, but he seems so powerful, so in charge now.”

And Severus had felt something that he never thought he would feel again: he felt proud. Proud of his nephew, a boy that he had hated and despised for more years than he cared to remember. A boy whom he had belittled and sneered at, who had in turn given him his freedom.

He had no doubt that he would still be disliked by many in the wizarding world - some would never forgive him for what he had done - but Scrimgeour would do as he had promised; by this time tomorrow, Severus would be legally free.

When Moody left he had held out his hand and apologised to Severus.

“Boy trusts you, thinks very highly of you and he knows his stuff! I’m sorry about earlier, I’m sorry to have caused such unpleasantness. It won’t happen again.”

He and Kingsley had had to get back, but they had promised to return the next day. Tonks had been moved into the adjoining dining room and finally it was only Severus and Harry that were left.

“Thank you, Harry,” he had said. “Thank you for defending me.” And the boy had blushed and waved off his thanks and gone in search of his friends.

Leaving Severus to seek out Narcissa and the answer to a number of questions.

“Severus,” she said when he walked in to the room in which she was staying, “thank you for saving my son.”

Her gaze fell on the blond boy curled at the bottom of her bed.

“You have taken good care of him for me; he looks so much better now. I never thought you would turn to Potter.”

“I have my reasons, Cissa,” Severus said as he sat by her bed. “I will tell you of them if you tell me what happened to you.”

For the next few hours he and Narcissa sat and talked. Quietness fell over the house as, one by one, the other inhabitants went to bed and Draco, lying at the bottom of his mother’s bed, covered only by a tartan blanket, slept on.

He told her about his relationship to Harry, how he had recently found out about it and how he had been a spy for the light for more than twenty years.

She told him how, after Severus and Draco had disappeared, the Dark Lord had had her restricted to one room of the manor. How she had grown increasingly disturbed by Voldemort’s instability and ever-crueller tortures of both his enemies and his supporters. She told him how she had been taunted with what had happened to Draco and how she had worried about him, his safety.

She told him how the Dark Lord had seemed completely insane when he’d learned of Severus’ defection and how she had hidden the locket, knowing that Voldemort had been looking for it hoping to use it as a bargaining tool with Potter. She didn’t know what it was, simply that it seemed to be important.

“Kreacher brought it to me after Sirius died,” she said. “That’s when I began to suspect that we were on the wrong side. We fought, but he was my cousin and I…..I cared for him. When Lucius ended up in Azkaban, I thought the Dark Lord would help us. But tonight, Severus, tonight he was torturing Lucius; they got him out of prison to see what he knew. I think he killed him, Severus. He left Cruciatus on him for so long. He can’t have survived that, surely not?”

She began to sob.

“He was looking for the locket, and he thought Lucius had it so he tortured him.”

Her eyes were haunted. “He was screaming, Severus. There was nothing I could do. He was begging for mercy and I couldn’t save him. And then, and then Bella was there and she had my arm and she dragged me to the fireplace on the other side of the room while they were all watching Lucius, listening to his agony. I think he must be dead, my proud lovely husband. But how do I tell Draco?

“We were just about to step into the flames when they noticed and came after us; she had seen the locket and told me to keep it safe. By then I knew she wasn’t Bella but I didn’t ask her name. We were already in the flames when she was hit with Avada Kedavra. She saved my life and I don’t even know who she was.”

Narcissa was crying openly now.

“Do you know her?”

Severus felt infinitely sad; Narcissa Malfoy had been saved by the child of the sister she had professed to despise for years. He nodded sadly.

“Her name was Nymphadora Tonks and she was a hero.” 

His heart clenched with guilt for the thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier with regards to the girl who had bravely given her life to save Narcissa. He wanted to find Lupin, comfort him for his loss. But he was very sure that, right now, Severus Snape was the last person that the werewolf would want to see.

But Narcissa was looking at him, stricken, shocked.

“Tonks?” she whispered in horror. “ _Andromeda’s_ child? Oh Severus, what have we done? What have _I_ done?” 

Severus never knew how long he sat there and held her that night while his childhood friend sobbed in sorrow and in despair. Her son beleaguered by a curse, her husband either dead or insane and most of her immediate family lost or destroyed. They had paid a heavy price indeed for following evil and now Narcissa finally felt the weight of realisation and of truth. She had no option left but to live with her guilt.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

A/N warning what follows in the author's note is a litany of woes!! *deep breath* ........ I sent this story to Kim on Monday, she did not get it till last night, she sent it back, didn't arrive. I have only just got this chapter back right now so I am posting it whilst I can. 

The only reason you did not have this chapter last week is becasue my server went down. Next chapter is nearly done. Ditto my other story Concubine ( a new chapter not the story). RL and Internet willing they will be up soon!! 

BTW I do have a new beta too as Branny has major life issues right now (hugs you darl) but I have no idea about whether my new beta recieved this or not!!!! So I am posting what i have. Any overlooked mistakes and all. Do not moan if you find small errors, just tell me, I do not mind! Do not complain about my lack of beta support. My Kimmy is wonderful!! ~ You have been warned!!! Any mistakes are Mine! Mine! Mine!!

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

It was very early in the morning and Harry was coming back upstairs. He had been unable to sleep, so he had gone to welcome the dawn. Being outside in the morning light helped Harry. It cleared his mind. The swell of sound from birdsong, the dew on the grass, the chill in the air before the sun was really up. Harry loved the mornings. He hadn’t used to, he’d hated them when he lived at the Dursleys. But, even when he had staggered out of his cupboard (long before anyone else was awake, in order to start breakfast), groaning, aching from whatever bruises he had been sporting, even then, he had appreciated the hopefulness of a new day.

He was startled when someone came out of the first floor bathroom. It was Narcissa.

“Good morning, Mr Potter,” she said in aristocratic tones. “You are up and about very early.”

“Um, yeah!” Harry said, and then cringed; he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was aware that he had a very old pair of jeans on, and a blue Weasley jumper with a hole in the sleeve, and his feet were bare because his trainers had been soaked in the long grass. Molly must not have seen the hole or she would have darned it by now. But he knew that he looked scruffy. God, she must think him such a fool! Why did he seem to be losing the power of speech around her too? He wasn’t normally tongue-tied, he didn’t usually feel like his feet were too big and he never even considered whether or not his neck was clean.

“I owe you a great deal, it seems,” Narcissa said, completely unaware of Harry’s churning thought processes it seemed. “You have kept my son safe and given him somewhere to stay. That means a lot to me, more than you will ever know.”

Harry blushed. He wondered whether she had any idea about just how he had been taking care of her son.

“Would you like to come in for a little while?” she said, indicating the room in which she was staying. “I find myself completely unable to sleep.” Narcissa’s expression seemed infinitely sad. “I slept a lot when I was at the Manor and I have rather a lot to think about at the moment. So I am afraid that insomnia will stalk me for at least a day or so.”

Harry nodded and followed her into her room. “Whose bedroom am I in, Mr Potter?” she asked.

“Um, Mr and Mrs Weasley’s,” Harry said. “They are sleeping on the sofa bed in the sitting room. It likes them and I suppose they wouldn’t have wanted to risk you, as it tends to spit out people it doesn’t like across the room. But Mrs Weasley washed its loose covers last week and so it thinks she is wonderful. Erm, not that it wouldn’t like you as well,” he said hurriedly, worried that she might take offence, “ but er, you never really know, it is quite eccentric!” Narcissa quirked an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“Mr Potter, I did not know that you were so amusing.”

Harry blushed again. He wondered if she were making fun of him, but she seemed to be sincere. She was looking at him steadily and she was still smiling. He looked over at Draco and wondered what would happen between the two of them. Surely Draco wouldn’t want anything to do with Harry now that his mother was back? After all, Harry was a half-blood, and he was a boy. Harry had not forgotten what Draco had told him about magic being more important than gender or even species in the magical world, but he still didn’t quite believe it and he was sure that the aristocratic Narcissa would have other plans for her beloved son.

He watched Draco, who was snuggled up on Narcissa’s bed. He was fast asleep, blond hair falling across his face; long dark lashes curled against his cheek, a small smile curving his lips. And, just for a moment, Harry felt completely desolate, he really didn’t want to lose Draco. He loved him and had done ever since that first kiss. He sighed. 

Narcissa was looking at Draco too and her face seemed softer now, her smile had turned tender.

“Poor darling is exhausted,” she said. “He has had such a bad time.”

“Do you know about…erm…?”

“About the fact that Draco is a werewolf? Yes, I do. The Dark Lord saw fit to taunt me with that every day. I was so worried, I thought that he would never find help or support. I was convinced that he would end up in Azkaban. But you helped him, you took him in. I owe you a debt that I can never repay, Mr Potter.”

Harry knew that he was blushing even more deeply now and he could not quite bring himself to look at Draco’s mother.

“S’okay,” he muttered. “Urm... My name is Harry, call me Harry.”

"Narcissa!" she said, gazing at him steadily for a moment. 

He truly didn’t know what to do when Narcissa’s face broke into a wide and genuine smile. He never felt as awkward with people as he did with Narcissa right now. He’d only seen her twice before, once at the Quidditch World Cup and once in Madam Malkin’s last year. Both times he had thought her insufferably smug and haughty. But here she was now, being nice to him. Harry didn’t trust her change of heart and he didn’t like to think what she would be like when she found out about him and Draco.

But it seemed that Narcissa was determined to surprise him.

“Draco told me how he feels about you, Harry,” she said. Harry’s heart sank. Well here it was. Draco was still asleep - he had left his mother to tell Harry that Draco didn’t want to be with him any more.

“He loves you Harry, and considering all that you have done for him recently and all that Severus has told me about you, I can see why.”

Harry thought he must look completely stupid. His jaw had dropped, he had not been expecting that particular revelation.

“Severus gave Draco some Dreamless Sleep potion. He has been having such a hard time, and he was so alone until you took him in.” She looked tenderly at her son again, before turning back to Harry. “Severus says that you even protected him from the Minister tonight. Scrimgeour hates Death Eaters, and maybe he has reason.” She shrugged sadly.

“It’s my fault, you realise? Mine and Lucius’ and Bella’s and all us other poor fools who followed a man because he was good looking and charming and seemed to say all the right things. But look where it got us. My sister is dead and it is a good thing that she is because she was completely mad before the end. Lucius,” her voice broke when she said her husband’s name and her face crumpled then she whispered, “Lucius has gone too.

“Everything is ruined. Draco and I have nothing because Death Eaters occupy our home and all of it, _all of it is my fault_. So I probably deserve it.

“But Draco, he didn’t ask for any of this. You two should be still at school fighting during potions and trying to work out how to get out of transfiguration homework.”

She had sat on the bed and was looking sadly down at the floor.

Harry reached over and sort of patted her on the back. He was so not good at this comforting thing, he thought, and yet he seemed to be in the habit of comforting distressed Malfoys at the moment. He didn’t think that transforming into a lion was going to help Narcissa, though.

“Er, would you like a cup of tea?” he said.

So Harry made tea and they talked for a while and Narcissa told Harry about her childhood and her friendships and the sadness she felt about the fact that most of her friends were lost. She talked about Bellatrix when she was a little girl who loved to look after her pet kneazles, and she talked about Andromeda and Regulus, Sirius’ younger brother and she talked about Sirius too.

“Andromeda was so much older than us and when she ran away with her beloved Ted Tonks, my mother never forgave her. She had a brightness about her, Andy did,” Narcissa said with her eyes staring ahead of her, fixed on some point in the past. “My parents loved her best and it broke their hearts when she left. Bella was fourteen, not a good age to lose your best friend, and I was eleven. That was the year that Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and his parents never forgave him that any more than my parents forgave Andy. I just went along with all that pureblood nonsense! Weakly.”

“I’m a half blood,” Harry said baldly. “You do know that, don’t you? And erm, I really like your son.”

“Harry,” Narcissa said with a slight smile curving her lips again, “I do know who your parents were. But, as a matter of fact, you are not a half blood; your mother was, not you. Severus told me many things tonight and he told me of your relationship too. But my priorities have changed Harry, I have lost just about everything I cared about and I wouldn’t care if you were Muggle born anymore. It doesn’t seem to matter now.”

Her face crumpled again and Harry thought she was going to cry, so he blurted out a thought that had been niggling at him.

“Mrs Malfoy, why did Voldemort not hurt you, why did he keep you alive?”

She looked up at him, puzzled her grey eyes, so like Draco’s, were swimming with tears.

“Because of the wards,” she said. “The Dark Lord couldn’t kill me because he needed me. In an old house like Malfoy Manor, one has to be keyed into the wards by blood or by bonding.”

“Then maybe Mr Malfoy is safe,” Harry said. “Did you actually see him die?”

Narcissa was staring him, mutely she shook her head.

“Then maybe they didn’t kill him, because if they want to stay at the Manor, then they need him for the wards.”

Narcissa was still staring at him, but this time her expression had changed. Her eyes were still damp but now they were filled with an expression that Harry had not seen there in the two hours that they had been talking. They were filled with hope.

 

Much, much later Harry asked Severus what he thought. He had left Narcissa after the realisation that they had had about Lucius, gone back to his own room, had a shower and then headed back downstairs to make breakfast. When Severus walked in, Harry was making drop scones to go with the pile of bacon that he had just cooked. Molly had joined him and was making tea and toast and Eileen was just sitting at the table watching her grandson with a quiet pride in her expression.

“When did you learn to cook, Harry?” she said her chin cupped in her hand. 

Harry flushed, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like to talk about the Dursleys anymore, but he didn’t want to lie to his grandmother.

“Erm, Aunt Petunia taught me. I always used to make breakfast,” he said, and then because he couldn’t seem to stop himself, continuing. “She taught me just after I started school, so that I would be more useful.”

“But surely you never got the chance to practice if you were at Hogwarts?” Molly said curiously.

Harry’s stomach twisted, why on earth had he mentioned it? Why had that bit of info slipped out? But he had to tell it all now, didn’t he?

“Not Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley, primary school.”

Harry actually flinched when she gasped.

Eileen got up from the table and came over to him. “You have had a hard time, haven’t you, love?” she said and then she pulled his head down to her level and placed a kiss on his forehead. Next thing he knew she was giving him a hug and the tight pain that had formed in his chest slowly dissolved. Then she didn’t mention it again.

She didn’t ask him if he wanted to talk about it, or start ranting about the Dursleys, she simply held him close and made him feel loved. 

Then other people joined them in the kitchen and everyone was talking about the events of the night before and Harry hugged his gran back and got on with cooking the bacon. 

 

Severus thought that Harry could be right. Lucius was almost certainly alive, because he would indeed be useful to the Dark Lord, especially if he wanted to stay in Malfoy Manor. He doubted very much that even a fairly prolonged spell under Cruciatus would have killed Lucius. But who knew what state the man would be in? Look what had happened to the Longbottoms.

But he couldn’t bring himself to mention that. Not after he saw how much lighter Narcissa looked this morning and (he told himself) Lucius had always been very strong. No, Harry was right, there was a very good chance that the senior Malfoy was still alive, although right now he didn’t think there was a single thing they could do to help him.

After breakfast, Harry had taken him aside to ask his question and Severus had felt almost overwhelmed. Harry had turned to him? He’d trusted his judgement and deliberately sought him out and Severus felt warmed. 

Whilst he and Harry had their discussion, the other children cleared up the kitchen. Draco was babbling away to his mother about what had happened since they had been apart. All at once, the boy seemed absurdly young. He had obviously been keeping a tight rein on his emotions since Severus had rescued him. But now he seemed happier, more relaxed than any time Severus could remember in the last few years. He was as relaxed and garrulous as the child Severus remembered from before Hogwarts. Before Draco had changed so much and become almost insufferable at times. 

He was proudly demonstrating the household charms that Eileen had taught him and   
Narcissa looked completely bemused. As well she might, Severus told himself. Since when had a Malfoy been proud of being good at housework?

Once the kitchen was tidy and everyone had arrived, Severus called a meeting. Everyone was expected to attend, except for Ginny and Narcissa.

Eileen had been polite to the woman, even respectful, but she had told Narcissa that they had things to discuss and that they would call her down later. Narcissa had nodded gracefully and retreated upstairs.

Ginny had stomped and fumed and shouted at her mother, but Molly wasn’t budging. She obviously did not like her other children attending meetings either, but Ron was of age, Bill was invaluable and the twins had always done whatever they wanted to do without recourse to anyone.

Draco, though, was furious. When Narcissa had been asked to leave, he had paled and his lips had thinned. He was already sitting down just one seat away from Harry and as far from Bill as he could manage. Bill’s once handsome face was still ravaged from Greyback’s attack and Draco dealt with the man’s disfigurement by avoiding him. They had tried everything to heal the scars, but nothing had worked so far. But Severus had prepared a jar of salve which he planned to give Bill at the end of the meeting, the new salve that he and Eileen had created - the one with the secret ingredient.

Everyone was seated now, except for him. The only seat left was at the head of the table, Dumbledore’s seat. Severus looked at it, confused. Eileen spoke.

“Come on Severus, love. Don’t keep us waiting all day.”

Severus felt distinctly uncertain.

“Please, Professor,” Bill said, “we want you to sit there, to chair the meeting.” Severus was completely astonished. He had never, in his whole life, been accepted by anyone, or even liked very much. He wondered if these people realised what an honour they were giving him. But as he looked at them, one by one, he saw that they did. He swallowed the lump in his throat that was threatening to choke him and moved forward to take the seat that he had been offered.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

A/N Warning ~ This chapter has a major cliff hanger. The next few chapters are quite action packed. I'll get them up as soon as I can!

Thank you my darling Kim and TQA for betaing

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next few days were busy and really nice – at least in some ways. For the first time in his life, Harry felt that he knew what it was like to live in a normal family.

He had silly, friendly arguments with Hermione and Ron, and played lots of chess, got snarked at by Severus several times a day and seemed to get hugs from Eileen and Molly whenever he stood still long enough.

Since being asked to chair the first meeting of the inner circle of the Order, just after that dreadful night when Tonks had died, Severus had seemed to have become the nominnal head of the light. Harry wondered what Severus thought about that, the irony of it all, but hadn’t yet gathered enough courage to ask him.

They were getting on really well now in many ways, but neither of them had completely managed to overcome all those years of hatred yet. It was just too long a legacy. But, in the meantime, Severus seemed intent on treating Harry as if he were about twelve. ‘Overcompensating’ Hermione called it. Harry found it deeply galling and rather nice, both at the same time.

It had been decided that Harry was not going to do any horcrux hunting. Everyone felt that this was far too dangerous for him; others were far more suited to that. Instead, he would undergo training: Severus would teach him how to cast silently, Bill would teach defensive techniques with Remus, who would assist once he was recovered. Remus, it seemed, was currently prostrate with grief.

Just for a short while after Severus had used his new salve formulation on the werewolf, Remus had seemed healthier than Harry had ever seen him. His skin had seemed to glow; his eyes had shone with a light that Harry had never seen there before. But in the last few days Remus had appeared to shrink. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes shaded. Pain was etched on every feature.

He could barely bring himself to speak, even to Harry. Although he did not ignore Harry if he spoke to him, he snapped at everyone else and couldn’t seem to even be in the same room as Severus.

Tonks’ death and Remus’ reaction to it had cast a shadow of sadness over everything that had happened. Harry would be laughing or talking and then he would suddenly remember the zany girl who had befriended him. She had been one of the only bright, fun things that had happened to him during the long, dark year when Sirius died.

That had been the year when Harry had felt most alone, most in despair. But Tonks had helped. Her clowning around and her cheerful smile had been infectious and in recent weeks she had continued to support Harry. She’d been at the Dursleys, she was the one that had stopped the other Order members from hexing them. Then, without any fuss at all, Tonks had whisked them away from Harry for good without any questions or recriminations. If she’d thought them dreadful people who did not deserve order support, then she kept that thought to herself. 

He had liked her immensely and knew that he was going to miss her a lot.

Eileen was going to teach him Occlumency. She had been shocked at how badly things had gone when Severus had tried to teach him. She was angry with Severus for (she said) failing Harry so badly, but even more angry with Dumbledore for forcing the two together. She had ranted for quite some time about the fact that two people who were at such odds should never have been forced to work together in such a way.

But Harry knew that Dumbledore had not had a choice about who taught him at that point; there had simply been nobody else who was even remotely suitable. Harry had known so much information that could not be divulged. It would have helped Harry immeasurably though if Dumbledore had explained the reasons behind the need to learn Occlumency in the first place. 

Harry might even have practiced, tried harder to get on with his most hated professor.

He still couldn’t think about that, or about the whole horrible year, for that matter: the visions, Umbridge, the horrible row, Sirius’ death. Harry shuddered violently. He did not want to think about it at all, wouldn’t think about it.

Occlumency with Eileen was very different from the way it had been with Snape. And when Harry thought of Severus and Occluding, he could not think of him as Severus at all.

_Severus_ was being really nice to him, supportive. Well, apart from the odd bit of snark and Harry quite liked that, it was so Severus. He had taught him several spells already and had hardly shouted at him or cursed his intelligence at all yet. Severus had hugged him, and tucked him up in bed when he wasn’t well. Severus had the same hands as Harry, exactly the same. He held his head in the same way when he was studying something. He was family, wasn’t he? Severus knew everything about Harry; even all the bad stuff and he still seemed intent on sticking around and that meant an awful lot.

But Snape? _Snape_ was the bogeyman from his school days. His worst, most despised teacher, even more detested than Umbridge in some ways.

Eileen had taken Harry up to the room that was now her bedroom and taught him some meditation techniques. She had sat in the newly re-covered chintz armchair, whilst he had lain on the bed, and she told him a story. She had described a long, green, grassy tunnel and a secret door that led into a beautiful garden, she had described the wild flowers that surrounded him on his visualised walk and the gaudier cultivated variety that filled the overflowing beds. She described a gnarled old oak tree that would always protect him, the soft breeze against his cheeks and the joyful birdsong and the feel of the long grass as he ran his fingers through it and the warmth of the sun on his back.

And Harry had relaxed, he had felt warm and safe and tranquil. And when Eileen had cast _Legilimens_ , Harry had found that he could hide his memories in the long grass, secrete them behind the trees and keep them out of Eileen’s grasp. 

He couldn’t do it for very long yet. But he could do it.

Harry’s success had caused a row between Severus and Eileen. She had been furious at the insensitivity that her son had shown, and Severus in his turn had shouted about how dreadful, how thoughtless Harry had been back then. .

They had been right in the middle of their row when they had spotted Harry standing frozen watching them whilst Severus ripped him apart. It had abruptly ended the argument.

Eileen had rushed over and hugged him, scowling back at Severus and Severus had said nothing, merely slipped from the room, robe billowing in his wake in exactly the way he had used to back at Hogwarts.

And Harry had felt flayed. He got that Severus didn’t feel like that about him anymore. But he had done once which made Harry certain that somewhere deep down inside himself maybe he still felt that way.

Harry sensed that Severus was trying to get along better, he really was. But he understood that he would not be able to like Harry overnight it would take some time and Harry would just have to work harder at it that was all. 

Tomorrow was the day of Tonks’ funeral and Harry didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Because Tonks was an Auror, she was having an official memorial service. But the Order members were coming back to Grimmauld Place afterwards, so Eileen and Molly were busy preparing mountains of food. Harry had offered to help, but after his comment about learning to cook before he’d started school, they seemed to have closed ranks when it came to tasks in the kitchen and shooed him away.

Harry felt dreadfully uncomfortable. He had always helped before and he wanted to help this time too. It would almost be like doing something for Tonks. So he hung around on the edge of all the hustle and bustle and watched. But every time he tried to do something, someone shooed him away and Harry had never learned how to just be.

Narcissa was magically peeling potatoes. Draco was bustling about looking important. He had been avoiding Harry since his mother returned. They had grabbed a couple of quick snogs and Draco had assured Harry that he did still love him, but since she had returned, he had barely left Narcissa’s side so Harry didn’t feel very reassured at all. Hermione was helping Severus research the possible horcruxes and try to discover where they might be hidden. Ginny kept sloping off somewhere and was sometimes missing for hours, and Ron was helping Bill.

The salve that Severus had given the oldest Weasley was only partially successful. The scars had faded quite considerably but they were still there. Bill didn’t seem to mind though. He had thanked Eileen and Severus profusely and had even thanked Harry, although Harry thought he had hardly contributed much to the partial cure, just a mangy bit of fur. 

He didn’t know what to do with himself. Really, he felt completely useless. Everyone kept telling him to relax, go and read a book, go and have a snooze. But Harry didn’t know how to relax on his own. Maybe if he meditated, he thought, like Eileen had shown him? 

He went a lay on his bed for a little while and tried to visualise the place that Eileen had conjured for him, but somehow without her rich warm tones he couldn’t quite _get there._ He would sort of catch glimpses, the whisper of grass, the sigh of the wind. A bright flower on the edge of his conciousness. But he couldn’t see anything properly; it stubbornly remained out of reach.

So he got up again and took himself off to the library. He flopped in one of the wing chairs nearest the fireplace and started searching through the pile of books that he found on the floor beside it. They were an interesting selection and he idly wondered who had chosen them. He picked up a book entitled _My Family and Other Magical Animals – Is the talent to become an animagus hereditary?_ by Geraldine Duralleous and started flicking through.

 

It was quite late now, almost 11.30pm. Severus had had quite a successful day. He had spent some time chatting with Narcissa, which had really helped sooth him after his row with Eileen. He hated rowing with his mother, but she had been furious with Severus after she had discovered exactly how he had ‘helped’ Harry learn Occlumency. That had not been well done of him, he knew that now. The problem was that he just hadn’t known Harry then, he had been subsumed by his prejudices and he couldn’t remake the past. He hated that the boy had overheard his sharp words too. The wounded look on Harry’s face had been so eloquent and Severus had wanted to apologise, but instead he had fled, down to the basement to try out some other salve recipes for Bill’s distorted features. . It was too late to go back and fix the year when he and Harry had failed so badly even though he really, really wanted to. They would just have to carry on as they were - there was just no point crying over spilt potion.

Harry was not in his room. The covers on his bed were rumpled, but Severus could not guess when the boy had been here last.

Ron was staying the night at Bill’s flat, which was above a seedy looking shop near Tottenham Court Road, and Draco was still with his mother, it seemed. So Severus did a simple _point-me_ spell and followed the direction indicated by his wand. He finally found Harry asleep in the library. 

The boy was curled up looking awkward and uncomfortable in one of the high-backed chairs that were scattered around, a small frown creasing his forehead. Bill and the twins had spent nearly the whole of the previous day removing hexes from various different items in the library: a task which they had completed successfully and with great aplomb. Bill was an extraordinarily good curse breaker with a wealth of relevant experience and Fred and George probably had more affinity with magic than any almost other wizard that Severus had ever known - apart from Harry, that was! But Severus was not about to praise the twins if he could help it. Those two needed no extra boost of confidence; they were already quite proud of their abilities.

Unlike Harry, it seemed. 

Severus could not believe that he had once found this young man arrogant. On the contrary, he now knew that Harry’s self esteem was almost non existent. When Eileen and Molly had resisted his attempts to help, Harry had sloped off on his own. It had never occurred to him that they might actually have enjoyed his company, that he would have been welcome to stay and chat.

He had seemed very uncomfortable about being in the way, bothering anybody. Severus had learned that when there was a problem, a situation where anyone was endangered, then Harry was decisive, quick and amazingly brave. But relationships seemed to just confuse him. He didn’t understand them. On several occasions Severus had caught Harry looking at him or at Eileen as if trying to work things out, trying to understand what the hell was going on and how he was going to deal with all the changes in his life. It was hardly surprising, really, was it? Unloved for just about his entire life, Harry was very unsure about how to handle affection. He coped with life-threatening situations so well because, for him, they were normal, those he was used to.

When he had disappeared, everyone had been rushing around. Harry’s absence had not been noticed, not until bedtime when he was nowhere to be seen.

They had known he was safe within the confines of Grimmauld Place, because he and Arthur, as the heads of the two magical families in residence at the house, had spent some considerable time strengthening the wards and linking everyone’s magical signatures into the house. They would have known if he had left or been in real danger.

Severus retrieved the book that Harry had been reading and smiled at the title. If the animagus ability was hereditary then it was one legacy that had come from James. Neither Severus or Eileen had been able to transform and he didn’t think that Lily had ever managed the technique either.

He could transform the chair though easily enough though, so he did. The back reclined and the seat widened and Harry sighed and snuggled down. Severus then transformed his handkerchief into a think woollen blanket and tucked it gently around the dark haired boy. 

All at once, he was hit by a wave of such tenderness for his nephew that he was caught unawares. He lifted his hand and tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from Harry’s forehead. 

“You are getting very fond of that boy, aren’t you, Severus?”

It was Arthur who had spoken.

Everyone else had headed up for the night. It had been Eileen who had noticed Harry’s absence, she had called Severus, been eager to make amends. She always went to check on her grandson before she went to bed herself and had noticed that he was missing.

Severus looked up and met the eyes of his friend. He knew that Arthur had doubted him; he had had every reason to, hadn’t he, after all? But somehow, over the past few weeks of caring for Harry, they had overcome the animosity that had built up. 

“I was looking for Ginny,” Arthur said. “She seems to have taken herself off somewhere as well. She is here because I can feel her, but she has been really moody and out of sorts the last couple of days.”

Severus harrumphed.

“She is a teenaged girl, Arthur, being moody comes with the territory. She is not still mooning after the Thomas boy, is she?”

Arthur gave a short laugh. “She may well be! But after the talking to that Molly gave her the time that she abandoned Harry and he woke alone I don’t think she would risk sneaking off again.

“I don’t know Severus, I have raised six sons and my one female child is more trouble than the rest of my kids put together!” 

They shared a rueful and rather shamefaced look about the vagaries of womankind; something they would never dare to do if either Molly or Eileen were there. 

Arthur smiled at him. “I’m off to check the sitting room, Ginny may well have fallen asleep in there. Sleep well, Severus,” he said. Severus nodded in return.

They had just left the library when they heard a muffled crash in the kitchen.

Severus entered first with Arthur close behind. 

They had found Ginny, it seemed; she was lying, seemingly unconscious, on the kitchen floor. Beside her, on the concrete, there was a glint of something gold. Severus thought it was the locket that Tonks had retrieved but couldn’t be sure from this distance. Arthur started to rush forward towards his daughter but was stopped by a figure who emerged from the shadows.

He was a young man. He was very good looking with dark curling hair. He was smirking at them and holding a wand.

“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you both,” he said. “I have no idea why I am here, or where I am. So you are going to tell me. I have just come across this wand - how strange that it should suit me so well. This girl it seems to have revived me, I have some sort of strange connection to her so you are not coming any closer, not till I know what is going on.

“Hands on your heads where I can see them. I don’t want to kill you unless I have to.” He smiled at them, his eyes crinkling attractively.

Severus’ heart was pounding; no surely, it couldn’t be? The locket, oh shit, it must have been the locket! Arthur was edging forward and Severus reached out to stop him but the boy had spotted the movement. He levelled Harry’s wand, for that is whose wand it was. What other one would suit him so well? Harry hadn’t used it, not for weeks.

Arthur leapt back, his arm was bleeding and he grabbed it with his other hand to try to staunch the flow of blood.

“Please,” he said, “please don’t hurt her. She is just a child. Take me instead.”

The boy snorted. “Oh come on, old man! What would I want with you? Just shut up and stay where you are. I will kill you anyway if you move or speak again. Both of you. 

“My name is Riddle, by the way,” he said with another charming smile. “Tom Riddle. But you can call me Lord Voldemort.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-nine

Hi there ~ prepare yourselves for yet another winge! I have been having problems with the Internet, plus I have been working on a fic for the Pimp_my_3somes fest on LJ url here: http://community.livejournal.com/pimp_my_3some/ - if you want to read the fic that is. I would highly recommend them, they look fantastic. It is an anonymous fest though, so you'll just have to guess who I am! Therefore this poor story has had to take a back seat.

Also this chappie has not been betaed. Everyone who betas for me has major RL issues right now, but I have two more chapters nearly ready. So if you fancy helping me out you can e-mail me at quill_lumos@yahoo.co.uk. Meanwhile if you spot any mistakes just let me know. ~ Lucie 

Update. I have some offers to help me out. Thanks ladies! L

 

 

Chapter Twenty Nine

Riddle – Severus refused to call him Voldemort - had made them kneel and then he had taken their wands.

They had been there for at least fifteen minutes whilst Riddle waited for Ginny’s life to leach away. Arthur had tried twice more to get to his daughter and the dark haired young man had finally petrified him. He seemed reluctant to kill them or not exactly reluctant but not quite ready yet. This version of the Dark Lord seemed to be in his late teens or very early twenties. He didn’t seem to know who Severus was though he did seem somewhat puzzled by him. He kept glancing at him, that smooth brow of his furrowed as if he were struggling to understand something that was just a little bit beyond him right now, hovering out of reach.

“There is a link between us isn’t there?”

He had walked over to them

Severus was still kneeling, hands on his head as instructed Arthur lay prone beside him

He put the tip of Harry’s wand under Severus chin and titled his face towards him.

“Why do I feel that you are connected to me?” he asked.

“There is a sort of tingle when I look at you, a vibration.”

He stared at Severus’ arm.

“I think it comes from there,” he said musingly.

“Roll up your sleeve I want to see for myself.”

He stood back, just out of Severus’ reach. Even in this form he was powerful but Severus thought that he maybe able to take him down if he could just get up from his knees. Riddle forestalled him though, he pointed Harry’s wand at Arthur’s head.

“Slowly,” he said, “hands where I can see them and any sudden moves and the old man dies.”

Severus tried stalling for time, though he had no idea what he thought he might do in that time but he had to do something. Arthur was incapacitated, every one else was asleep and Ginny was dying.

“Look,” he began nobody here wants to hurt you, “If you just left no-one would follow you, just leave the girl an….”

“Shut up!” Riddle said, “Just shut up and do as you are told. Roll up your sleeve and show me your arm or you will find yourself kneeling there completely naked!”

Severus rolled up his sleeve. 

Riddle smiled.

“So I did it then? The Dark Mark! I bound my followers to me,” a smug self-satisfied smile 

He stared at Severus, “you don’t seem particularly respectful though!

“Why did you not welcome me back the moment I appeared?”

Those full lips of his twisted themselves into a sneer.

“You’re a traitor aren’t you?”. 

Severus’ heart sank

Riddle stepped forward again and used the wand to flick casually at Severus’ hair,

“I don’t like traitors! What is your name, traitor?” 

Severus had spent too many years on his knees to want to do this anymore.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake just get on with it!” he snapped, “I thought that needless verbosity was something that came on you with age. But it seems I was wrong you were always a complete wanker weren’t you?”

Riddle bellowed his anger.

He drew back his hand and slapped Severus across the face cutting open his lip and sending him flying to the floor.

“I’m not going to kill you quickly traitor, there are several nice slow curses that I can perform. It will give me something to watch while the girl dies.”

He smiled at Severus, he was darkly handsome and the smile graced his features even more. Severus thought he preferred Voldemort, as he was now, deformed, ugly. At least he looked evil. This earlier version of Voldemort, wore a face of charm and beauty.

Severus decided he would not go quietly he would scream with every curse. Eileen would understand, that it was a signal he just prayed that they would get Harry out.

Please let Harry live, he whispered to himself, to any gods that might happen to be listening and who would take pity on a remorse filled ex Death Eater.

But Riddle wasn’t looking at Severus anymore. He had been distracted by some one or some thing that stood in the doorway behind Severus.

“Hello little boy,” he said with that charming smile of his, “have you come to join the party?”

Severus’ nearly wept

“Hello Tom,” said Harry, because who else would walk into a kitchen containing a raving madman without even the protection of a wand other than Harry?

Anyone else would have run screaming from the room by now.

“I think you should let them go.” Harry said evenly, “because if you don’t I shall have to kill you!”

Riddle started to laugh

Severus turned to look at his nephew. He was standing barefoot in the doorway. His hair was all dishevelled and his clothes looked like he had slept in them, which of course he had. 

Harry was smiling too. He wouldn’t seem to meet Severus’ eye. No his eyes were firmly fixed on Tom Riddle.

Tom stopped laughing

And looked at the boy steadily for a moment, without blinking.

“Oh please, let me see you try!” he said

Harry’s smile widened and he began to run towards Riddle, Severus shouted at the same time

“No Harry!”

Tom was distracted for just a moment by Severus’ shout because when he turned back to hex Harry it was too late and the boy had already transformed into his animagus shape. The huge lion hit Riddle squarely in the chest and together they fell sprawling to the ground. 

For a moment there was chaos. The lion was growling. It had buried its teeth in Riddles chest and seemed to be happily chewing its way through his ribs; the sounds of crunching bone and ripping flesh were repugnant

Tom Riddle was screaming and thrashing about, trying to dislodge the large creature that had him pinned to the floor. He was not having much success, there was blood everywhere, his struggles were growing ever weaker and he was futilely trying to push the lion away.

The screams grew ever more frantic, ragged, shrill. Finally there was total silence.

It was as if time had stood still. In the distance Severus could hear thudding, urgent footsteps pounding across the ceiling, heading for the stairs. The screams had wakened the household it seemed. 

But in the kitchen for the beat of a heart the participants of the grotesque tableau seemed frozen.

Arthur was trying to stand. He was weakened by the curses that Voldemort had fired at him and from the way he was cradling his arm, Severus feared that it might be broken. Ginny was stirring. Her eyes were not yet open but she was murmuring quietly to herself. Arthur gave up on standing then and began to crawl across the flagstones towards his daughter’s body. Severus heard his quiet sobs.

Riddle lay still, his prone form was beginning to fade, melt beneath the lion that still straddled him.

Then without warning Harry transformed again. The lion had leapt explosively from its kill; the boy hit the ground running, heading for the dresser.

He grabbed the sledge hammer that was lying there with both hands, the one that Severus had fallen over some fifteen times and swung it high above his head, and now Harry was screaming, it was as if he were calling upon remnants of strength in order to wield the weighty object. For a split second it stood straight up like a sword of justice and then Severus’ eye was caught by a burst of light. 

The locket was burning; Harry had set in on fire

With a final yell Harry brought the monstrous hammer down on the kitchen floor with a tremendous crash. The very stones themselves cracked open. There was a flash of very bright light and a huge bang and Harry was thrown backwards hard against the kitchen wall.

Everything was still, especially Harry

Severus took a moment to stand, he was trembling. The events of the past few moments had left no time for consideration whatsoever. Harry had acted with a speed that was astonishing. Swiftly and seemingly without qualm he had dispatched Tom Riddle yet again

It had all happened so fast and he was not quite sure what to do first. He was playing catch up with Harry Potter yet again

Arthur had reached his daughter who was beginning to stir, he sat beside her looking pale, he was shaking violently.

With the disappearance of Riddle, - because he had totally disappeared - it seemed as though the Petrificus Totalis that Arthur had been under had totally evaporated.

Severus went over to where Harry had landed almost reluctant to look. He was lying in the corner like a pile of discarded rags and Severus immediately searched for a heartbeat on finding it he let out a breath that he did not realise that he had been holding 

“Foolish Gryffindor!” he said and was immensely cheered when Harry groaned. Green eyes opened slowly. Looked blearily at Severus, then shut again rapidly as if the dim light from the kitchen was as bright as any sun.

“Ow my head!” he moaned and for the second time in a month was promptly sick all over Severus’ shoes.

 

Harry’s head was pounding. He still felt really, really nauseous.

Grimmauld Place had descended into total chaos after he had taken Voldemort out again. He had heard the voice and recognised it immediately. There couldn’t be many people alive today who would recognise the voice of a young Tom Riddle. Sadly Harry was one of those people.

So was Ginny.

The girl was crying hysterically right now and everyone else was shouting at each other and more or less ignoring her.

Harry went over and sat beside her. He felt ice cold. He had killed again. This time deliberately. When Quirrell had died, incinerated by his touch, Harry had still been a child, too young to understand properly that a man had died. That death had not been deliberate.

But this time, this time he had killed. He had ripped and torn at Riddle’s flesh and in his animagus form it had not felt like murder. It had been merely survival.

Pride threatened, kill threat. 

That had been Harry’s only thought. When he had transformed, he had let instinct guide him. But now he was human again and he felt the heavy weight of guilt and self loathing drape across his shoulders like a winter cloak.

“You alright Gin?” he asked quietly, gently taking her hand in his own

Ginny was trying to control her sobs and failing miserably.

So Harry put his arm around her shoulder. “It’ll be okay Gin,” he said, “he’s gone now.”

Ginny turned large watery eyes on him

“But for how long Harry?” she asked in a desperate voice. “He nearly killed me again. He gets inside me and it is as if my brain is fogged, as if I have no will of my own. That locket called to me and I had to find it, I just kept looking until I did.”

“What if he does kill me next time Harry? I can’t resist him it’s just too hard.”

“Yes you can Ginny. You are strong and feisty and no one can tell you what to do.”

But Harry, you don’t understand when he’s inside me, when I am possessed, it’s almost like I want him there with me. Like it feels right………But now I feel violated, like I have a disgusting taste in my mouth that I’ll never be free of”

She shuddered.

“I know Gin,” Harry said really quietly, “I can still taste him too.”

“What happened Harry?” Ginny asked quietly

“Yes Harry! We’d all like to know that! What on earth did you think you were doing?” It was Severus’ voice. Sardonic and drawling.

Cold fire was sparking in his eyes and Harry got the feeling that Severus was very pissed off indeed!

“I was saving your life you sanctimonious prick!” he said, “If you are about to shout at me again then you can just fuck off!”

Harry’s voice broke on the last word. It felt sore and scratchy; the roar that had been so unconsciously ripped from him had been tremendously loud.

The next thing he knew he was pressed against Severus’ chest, his uncle’s arms tightly wrapped around him, holding him close.

“I know you were, you foolish child!” Severus said, “But you would have done better to keep yourself safe, I am not important.”

“You’re important to me.” Harry blurted. His voice was muffled by Severus embrace

Severus grasped his shoulders and pushed him gently back so that he could examine Harry.

“You mean that don’t you?” he used a voice that was more gentle, more understanding than any he had ever heard Snape use before.

Harry shrugged but found his cheeks heating under Severus’ calm regard. “You must take more care of yourself Harry, but I am very grateful that you have saved me, saved us all, once again.” His eyes softened, “tell me child, are you okay?”

There was such tender concern in his uncle’s voice that Harry felt awful. He didn’t know how to deal with this. It hurt. Severus cared didn’t he, he truly cared? A few weeks ago Severus had said horrible things to Harry, but now he was being so nice, understanding, like he really understood Harry. 

Harry felt at a loss about how to deal with this.

He felt Ginny take his hand again, pulling him away from Severus

“Harry,” she said. “Please Harry, please help me.”

It was if she needed to be close to him. The Weasley family had been drifting back and forth, alternately comforting Ginny, berating her and then berating each other. For not noticing what she was up to, for not keeping a better watch, for not taking better care of her after second year. It was so loud and dramatic and so not what Ginny needed right then.

Ginny was trembling now

He smiled up at his uncle and then turned back to Ginny to give her a hug, a proper hug.

She didn’t have to explain what it felt like to him, having Voldemort trick you, use you. Harry had seen Arthur Weasley on the floor, bleeding, in pain. He had seen Ginny dying at Riddle’s hand, yet again. Being helpless while he twisted things, made lies seem real.

Oh Sirius! 

Shouting at Ginny, berating her wouldn’t make a difference Harry knew. It was hardly her fault after all. The only thing that would give her peace would be Voldemort’s death, only then could she be free of the stench of him. But Harry felt cold at the very thought of taking a life. He would have to, he knew that. But he also knew that when he shut his eyes tonight he would see Riddle die at the end of sharp claws and teeth, time and time again.

Ginny snuggled against him, her sobs had stilled, but she was warm and soft and he felt protective of her. The scent of Ginny, the rightness of this. 

They had not been this close since Hogwarts, not physically at least. He had seen very little of her the past few weeks. This felt right, this felt safe. The monster in his chest had woken.

All at once Harry understood

The monster in his chest!

“Voldemort!” He shouted

Everyone one in the room stopped arguing at once and turned to look at him in horror. Ginny’s eyes widened.

Harry loved Draco. He loved him with all that he was. He knew what love felt like now and he never had before. What Harry felt for Ginny was not love, it was obsession, possessiveness. As if she belonged to him

The monster in his chest!

“Ginny!” he said, he gently tipped her chin so that she would look up at him. “The Horcruxes! I know how we can get them!” Harry was excited now.

The monster growled.

“You! There is something about you!” It must be linked to the diary, what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. They are attracted to you! The Horcruxes. That’s how we get him, that’s how we extract the soul pieces!”

He swung her around. Ginny’s mouth dropped open, she gasped, “We’ve got him Gin, we’ve got the snakefaced bastard!! You call him out, I’ll kill him! We’ll do it together.” He laughed

He had had a revelation

He couldn’t help himself he was so elated that he dropped a kiss on those still wide-open lips.

The room erupted with noise

Molly started shouting and weeping. A plethora of Weasleys were shouting too. Loud opposing opinions about what Harry was saying, Eileen was trying to calm things and to reach her grandson. Severus was arguing with Molly who was rapidly becoming hysterical

But for Harry suddenly time stood still. He looked up to see Draco standing at the kitchen door watching him, with a look of hurt on his face.

Draco’s lip was trembling; he appeared to be holding back tears

Harry wanted to go to him, to tell him what he had realised. That he had never loved Ginny, that it had been Voldemort all along. The Horcrux had been insidiously pulling him towards Ginny all of last year. That he knew the difference now because of Draco, because he truly loved Draco, he knew what love was.

He opened his mouth to call out to his lover, to call him over to tell him his discovery

But Draco spoke first.

“You fucking bastard Potter!” he said and then he turned and walked away


	30. Chapter Thirty

Thanks go to Emma and Claudia, who have bravely taken on the task of sorting out my ramblings - I salute you ladies!!

 

Chapter Thirty

Severus thought that Harry looked like he had been stretched too thin. His skin was almost translucent and his eyes were far too bright. 

The boy had finally gone to bed at about three in the morning, deeply distressed. Eileen and Molly were not speaking.

Molly had said some dreadful things the night before in her defense of her daughter. Severus thought that Harry was right. The girl was probably their only way of extracting the soul pieces from the Horcruxes. They would just have to find a safe way of doing that.

But Molly had ripped Ginny away from Harry and then torn into the boy. She had accused him of endangering her family, especially her daughter. She had bellowed and screeched at him and then swept from the room on a wave of righteous anger.

And Harry had collapsed

Already in shock over Draco’s words, Molly’s diatribe had been the final straw.

He had fallen to his knees and sat just staring blankly ahead, he had barely spoken a word since then.

Arthur had helped him to his feet, despite the fact that he was obviously in pain from his damaged arm. He had told Harry that Molly was desperately upset, that she did not mean what she was saying. But Harry had not responded.

Severus wanted to smack Molly Weasley. He thought that she was behaving like a self righteous, self-seeking cow. He had often thought that she was a rather overbearing mother, and had, on occasion felt sorry for her brood. But this time he thought she had gone too far with Harry.

It had been Eileen who had led her grandson upstairs in the end. The boy had barely seemed to be with them anymore. Harry’s eyes had seemed vacant and he had appeared to be bone achingly tired.

Severus had sat by Harry’s bed for the rest of the night. Eileen had insisted that the boy take some Dreamless Sleep potion, and then Severus had insisted that his mother get some sleep herself.

He had felt so helpless at Harry’s sadness. Was this what it was like when you came to care for someone? You want desperately to spare them pain, protect them from the bad behaviour of others? Severus had never felt like this about anyone before, except for his mother and he wasn’t sure how to handle these new emotions. His instincts told him to push Harry away, but his heart told him that Harry really needed him right now, and he found himself unable to ignore his heart.

Harry’s eyes had been closed almost before his head hit the pillow, but even with the potion he had taken Harry’s dreams were restless. He had muttered in his sleep, almost inaudibly. Only one word was fairly clear, one name. Draco.

Severus’ heart ached. He reached over and stroked Harry’s hair gently, pulled the covers up when the boy shrugged them off and generally found himself fussing like an old mother hen.

Severus could not believe that he felt like this about anyone and certainly not about Harry Potter. The boy had been through so much, stayed so strong and Severus could not allow him to fall apart now. Even if he had to hold him together through sheer force of will, he was not going to see Harry fail. 

At eight o’clock in the morning he was disturbed by an argument, which seemed to be raging outside Harry’s door. He knew that Harry would not wake until nine thirty. Severus had set a timer on the potion. Six and a half hours were all that he could allow Harry to sleep today. There was simply too much to do. They had to hold a meeting, they had to debrief over the destruction of another Horcrux and they had to go to Tonks’ funeral at eleven thirty.

He stood up and made his way over to the door. Eileen and Molly were outside hissing angrily at eachother. But their voices were rising along with their tempers. 

“You are not going to see him Molly!” Eileen was saying, “You hurt him badly last night and I will not let you near him again!”

“I need to apologise!” Molly said, “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I love him as much as I love my own children, he knows I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Harry is NOT one of your children Molly!” Eileen retorted. “They may be able to cope with your sudden flares of temper and harsh words exchanged but Harry can’t. If you tell him he is of no use, that he is selfish, he will believe you and I am not letting you near him right now!”

“You have no right to stop me seeing him!” Molly shouted, her voice had taken on a slightly hysterical tinge.

“I have every right!” Eileen returned. “He is my grandson!”

Molly opened her mouth to say more. But Severus forestalled her.

“Harry is still asleep,” he said firmly to Molly. “He will not wake for another hour and twenty-two minutes. I suggest that you go away and calm yourself. You may speak with him later, after the funeral.”

He felt like shaking the stupid woman. She was worried about her daughter he knew that, but that did not give her the right to treat Harry the way she had. To say the things that she had was inexcusable

Severus had always thought that Harry simply shrugged off harsh words, and in many ways he did. He had never seemed to be affected by the things that Severus had said to him, he had always seemed to carry on in his own sweet way no matter what Severus or anyone else had said. But that had been a façade he now knew. Harry would have accepted the harsh words that Molly Weasley had spewed at him and added them to those that made up his view of himself.

Harry had killed a man the night before. Deliberately killed him. Not by accident as had been the case with Quirrell and the other Tom Riddle, the one he had met in the Chamber of Secrets. According to Albus, Harry had been desperately trying to save Ginny; he’d had no idea what his actions would do to Voldemort. But this time Harry had known the consequences of his actions and had very deliberately set out to kill. Tom Riddle might not have been truly real, he might have been draining the life from Ginny, but Harry’s purposeful actions had ceased his existence and Severus was not at all sure how his nephew was going to feel about that.

Eileen smiled up at him as Molly left.

“You look absolutely dreadful, love,” she said in that caring, understanding tone that only mothers seem to be able to get away with.

“Go and have a shower and get some breakfast. I’ll sit with Harry for a while.”

Severus nearly refused. But he knew that he could come back. He wanted to talk to the boy before he was grabbed by anyone else, but he could see that his mother was itching to do some intensive nurturing of her grandson. So he promised her that he would be back at ten and that Eileen was not to let Harry downstairs until he had seen him first.

He meant to head for a shower, truly he did. But first he found himself seeking out Draco Malfoy instead.

The blond boy was in the library. It seemed to have become a bit of a retreat for all the angst ridden teenagers in the house of late.

He did not look up as Severus walked into the room.

He kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke to Severus.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Draco murmured. “Hermione’s already told me that she thinks I’m a total prat. Though she can’t be too cross with me because she did at least drag the Weasel away when he was threatening to break my fingers, before he started on other bits of my anatomy.”

Severus didn’t know what to say.

Finally Draco looked up at him.

“I thought he’d gone back to her.” He said. “I’ve been so distant the last few days since Mum came back. I didn’t mean to be. But I sort of forgot about Harry. Then I thought he forgot about me.”

“Ginny has everything that I don’t. She’s pureblood too. I used to think that they were blood traitors the Weasleys, but it was me that was the traitor. Me and my family wasn’t it? We were the ones that followed the wrong course.” He rubbed the palm of his hand over the tip of his nose. It was a nervous gesture of his, one that Severus had seen a lot of lately.

“I thought that Harry had had enough of me rushing off and not paying him attention. He liked her so much in school. And she isn’t a werewolf. Not like me. I thought that he’d decided that he didn’t want me anymore.”

“But Hermione told me what happened and now I feel like a prat. I tried to come and see him but your mother wouldn’t let me in.”

Draco’s eyes took on a glimmer of hope. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

Severus sighed. They were in the middle of a war. A horrendous war, one that might destroy the world as they knew it, but teenage relationships, with all the messy emotional baggage that were part and parcel of them, they carried on regardless it seemed.

Severus sat down.

“I think you need to talk to Harry, later, after the funeral perhaps. When you can have some time alone.

“Knowing Harry I am sure that you can work this out between you. He does not hold grudges and I think he cares about you deeply Draco. I think he has missed you a lot, and has been puzzled by your distance.”

Severus felt surprised at himself. When had he noticed these things about Harry?

Draco’s eyes filled with tears and he swiped them away fiercely.

“I don’t know why he would care about me!” he said sullenly, seemingly determined to hold on to his guilt.

Severus looked at him, really looked at him. 

Draco was barely more than a child himself. A boy whose childhood had been nearly as dysfunctional as Harry’s really. Draco had been showered with love and possessions. But his father had been so demanding of his son, and what about his abhorrent beliefs? Severus might have turned his back on such prejudices, but he knew how hard it was to do that. Lucius had always been so charming when he spouted the vicious nonsense that he did. Severus had been taken in, a lot of people had been. So how could he have expected Draco to have escaped unscathed?

The boy’s worldview had undergone a huge upheaval in recent months. His mother had nearly died and his father night well be insane from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse. Since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, at the end of Draco’s fifth year, he had been struggling to deal with his changed circumstances, more or less alone. He had had to cope with fear and loneliness and revulsion at what he had become and his upbringing; his safe, cosseted, blinkered upbringing had given him no internal resources to cope with what he now faced. 

“Nevertheless, he does care Draco.” Severus reassured the blond boy, “Being with Harry Potter is never going to be the easy option. You, more than most, will have a lot to overcome. I cannot believe that the wizarding world will be happy for you and Harry to be together not after everything…..” Severus broke off. He didn’t know what to say

Draco finished the sentence for him

“Not after everything that I have done, not when they find out what I am. Harry didn’t seem to mind, and I forgot about that. I forgot that he was there for me, forgot that he didn’t seem to care about… about _what I am now!_ Mother was so sad, she needed me so much that I didn’t think about Harry. Then when I saw him hugging and kissing Ginny I just felt betrayed.”

He blushed and looked away. “I should have asked what was happening shouldn’t I? I had heard the screams, I should have waited and Harry would have told me. I should have been there for him.” Draco swallowed heavily

 

Severus took Draco’s chin in his hand and turned the boy’s head to look at him. “I don’t think Harry will hold that against you. The fact that you have apparently been ignoring him or the fact that you stormed out on him. If there is one thing that I have learned about Harry in all these weeks it is that he has a very strong moral code. If he has chosen you Draco, and he has you know, then I cannot see that he would betray you, or desert you. But he may well decide that he is not good enough for you. ”

“He doesn’t think very much of himself,” Draco whispered, “and I don’t think that I’ve helped things by ignoring him. I didn’t mean to. He probably thinks I don’t want him anymore.” The last statement was almost plaintive. 

“Do you want him Draco?” Severus asked. “Do you want Harry for himself and not for what he is?” Severus was astonished at himself. Earlier he had been fussing round Harry like some sort of over anxious mother and now he was asking Draco his intentions as if he were some Victorian Papa.

“I love him, Severus. I think that I have always loved him.” This last was said so quietly that Severus had to strain to hear him. “What if I’ve blown it? What if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?”

“Then you have to deal with that and move on.” Severus said calmly, then and at Draco’s sharp intake of breath added, “but I don’t think that he has moved on Draco. I don’t think that our young Mr Potter gives his heart away lightly.”

They talked for a bit longer and Severus told Draco a little about what had happened the night before. How Harry had once again fought the Dark Lord and won. When they separated Draco seemed happier. And Severus wondered how he was able to give advice to someone about their relationship when he had only ever managed to screw up his own relationships beyond repair.

 

 

When Harry woke, Eileen was there again. She was sewing something and when she realised he was awake, looked up at him and smiled.

“Good morning love,” she said, laying her work aside. “How’re you feeling?”

Harry smiled back at her somewhat wanly. He felt completely bruised and battered. In the first few seconds after he awoke every thing felt fine, but then things started settling back in on him. 

The fight with Riddle.

The things that Molly had said.

Draco.

Harry shoved them away. He was not going to think about any of those things.

If he had not destroyed Riddle then Ginny would have died. That was all there was to it. And not only that but the Riddle that he had destroyed was not really real anyway. Harry didn’t think about the screams and the blood or the fact that when he was in his lion form he had revelled in his strength and power as the phantom that was Voldemort lay dying beneath him.

No, he decided. He would not feel guilty about what had happened.

“Do you want to go to the loo love?” Eileen asked. “I’ve sorted you out some robes for later, so go and shower and we’ll get you ready.”

Harry obediently got out of bed and made his way over to the bathroom.

Luckily no one else seemed to be about.

_Oh Draco!_ he thought sadly 

He caught sight of himself in the mirror. It wasn’t a magical one. Harry had changed the mirror in the bathroom to an ordinary Muggle one from IKEA. He didn’t like magical mirrors. He didn’t need anyone else telling him what a runty scruff he was.

He looked dreadful. Pale skin, wide staring eyes. Thank goodness he didn’t have his glasses on. He was sure that he would look even worse if he could see himself clearly 

He had believed Draco when he told him he was beautiful. When Draco had kissed him and held him it had been wonderful. But the anger on the other boy’s face last night and his absence from Harry’s life for the last few days had left Harry feeling all shaky.

Maybe Mrs Weasley was right and he was a destroyer of people and families? He was certainly not safe to be around. He should have had the locket removed, he had known what it was, it should not have been here for Ginny to find. And he certainly had no right to ask her to help him destroy the remaining Horcruxes. Perhaps she wouldn’t survive another encounter with Voldemort? 

Harry wondered if he would survive another encounter with Voldemort come to that.

He stepped out of the shower and tried, as unsuccessfully as ever, to flatten his unruly hair. Maybe that was what had made Draco go off him? His hair? Draco’s hair was so smooth after all.

He wandered slowly back to the bedroom. The hallway was always drafty and cold even in summer but he was warm enough in the fluffy bathrobe that Eileen had bought him. He loved the robe. Somehow this morning when he felt so raw it really helped to have it on. 

His clothes were laid out on the bed when he re-entered the room. Harry felt a lump in his throat. It was hard and sore and it didn’t seem to be going away how ever hard he swallowed.

His gran busied herself across the other side of the room. Tidying up around Ron’s bed whilst Harry dressed. He wondered how long it would take her to realise that tidying up after Ron was a totally lost cause.

She came back over when he had shrugged his robe on and started fussing about lint on his shoulders. Harry thought it was wonderful.

The door opened and just for a moment his heart leapt. He looked up sharply, hoping to catch sight of white blond hair and a sardonic smile. He tried not to look too disappointed when it was his uncle who entered.

Severus was holding a tray. It held some porridge, a pot of tea, some juice and some toast. Harry didn’t think he could eat any of it, but he really appreciated the gesture.

His uncle pulled a table close to the bed and then dragged over a chair.

“I thought you might like to have your breakfast up here Harry,” he said. “It is very chaotic downstairs this morning.” Harry sat down and picked up a spoon.

“Erm thanks, er…Severus,” he said. The lump in his throat was back and as he began to try and eat around it he wondered which of the people he had upset last night didn’t want to see him downstairs. Mrs Weasley or Draco.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

A/N ~ hmmm what did I need to tell you again? Oh yeah! Cliffhanger. Next chappie up tomorrow. Thanks to the dearest darling Claudia for betaing.

 

Chapter Thirty–One

 

They went by Portkey to the funeral. Harry still hated Portkeys He thought that he probably always would. Harry travelled with Severus and Eileen, wearing the new, lint free, velvety robes that Eileen had produced. 

The Malfoys travelled with Arthur. Draco couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Harry, though Harry tried to catch his eye several times. He assumed that Draco had not forgiven him yet and that made him feel dreadfully sad. Both mother and son wore robes with thick, cowled hoods that Harry thought were probably far too warm for the weather. But it seemed that perhaps discretion was more important than comfort to the Malfoy family right now. If Severus were correct then the Malfoy name had undergone quite a battering and a number of people were relishing the apparent downfall of such a mighty family.

Molly and Ginny had not surfaced today; as far as Harry knew at least. They were coming later to the Ministry. The other Weasleys and Hermione, all crowded round a battered old tennis trainer and landed together in a corner of the field in a large ungainly heap. Much snorting and snuffling could be heard as they tried to suppress the giggling that threatened to engulf them and struggled to untangle their limbs. 

Ten minutes later and everyone was far more sombre. 

They’d had to Portkey to a site a short walk from the graveyard as that was heavily warded. According to Arthur it was considered very bad form to Portkey or Apparate into a burial ground. Apparently that was one of the reasons that the wizarding public had found it difficult to believe Harry when he had told of his ordeal with Voldemort after the Triwizard Tournament. Magic performed in graveyards was always dark and sinister. It seemed to be one more thing that the wizarding world didn’t like to think about and therefore they pretended that it did not exist.

Now that they had arrived Arthur was going to be staying with Harry and Severus and Eileen were sitting with the Malfoys. Harry didn’t agree with this, he wanted to be with his family, but Severus had said that given the current newspaper articles it might be best if he and Eileen sat at the back of the group of mourners, well away from the Tonks' and of course Harry.

Harry had argued quite strongly that he didn’t give a damn about what the Daily Prophet said. It had been horrible about him before and probably would be again. And he loved his family and was proud of them. Severus had seemed really pleased when Harry had said that but he had added that today was about Tonks and not them. So Harry had capitulated. But he wasn’t happy about it.

Tonks’ funeral was to be held in a small, very private place somewhere deep in the Devon countryside. The graveyard itself was overgrown and full of higgledy- piggledy gravestones that were smothered in lichen and moss. There were stone angels, old statues and great granite tombs covered in ivy. It was tranquil here.

Large trees shaded the stones, roses, ivy and honeysuckle intertwined in the hedgerows and a large yew tree guarded the entrance in a time-honoured manner and acted to strengthen the wards Arthur told him. This apparently, was the graveyard that his parents had been buried in. Harry didn’t know how he felt about that. He would be so close to them, he had to go and see them. Severus had said that he and Harry and Eileen would stay on afterwards and visit his Mum and Dad then. That had made him feel all hollow inside. Like someone had scraped him clean.

The graveyard was peaceful. Except for the faint sound of the sea in the distance and the echo of wood-pigeons in the nearby woods, it was almost completely still.

There were about forty chairs placed under the trees and Harry was directed to sit in the front row. He was still with Arthur. Severus and Eileen were keeping their distance at the back of the rows of chairs, in the shade, amongst the trees.

Severus had told him over breakfast about the stories in the papers. He thought that Scrimgeour was behind them, it was his way of getting his own back for the fact that Harry had managed to best him over Severus’ release. Unlike Fudge, Scrimgeour was a consummate politician, according to his uncle at least. If he couldn’t tackle Harry directly then he would go about getting what he wanted using more underhand methods. Several papers had printed stories that suggested that Eileen and Severus were not a good influence on Harry. Severus had not seemed too bothered about what they’d said about him, but he both he and Harry were furious about the way they had treated Eileen.

Breakfast had been quite a sad affair until Harry had told them about Rita Skeeter and her little secret. They had finally owled her and arranged for she and Eileen to have a little chat later. Harry thought that the sharp-tongued ruthless journalist wouldn’t stand a chance against his gran. He was quite looking forward to the interview and that was definitely a first for Harry.

Kingsley had joined them for breakfast too in the end. Harry was still worried about how cross Draco and Mrs Weasley were with him, but he did feel a bit better. It was nice to think that he had people looking out for him. Just for him. It made him feel slightly fuzzy inside.

Kingsley thought that they would need to consider looking for somewhere else to stay. He was worried that Grimmauld Place had become too public. The Aurors who had visited the other evening might not remember the exact location, but they had certainly been in the vicinity rather a lot lately. And where there were Aurors there were often Death Eaters following close behind. Kingsley did not want to take any risks with the safety of Order members.

As Harry watched his friend, Kingsley moved from his seat to stand at the front of the circle of chairs. He was leading the ceremony today it seemed. He looked over in Harry’s direction and smiled at him rather sadly. He stood right beside a raised dais and on that stood a plain wooden coffin. 

Harry could not believe that it could be so small. Tonks had always seemed such a positive presence. Since the first moment he had met her she had bubbled with life and enthusiasm. She had appeared to be so big to him then and yet now he thought about it Harry realised that when he had last seen Tonks he had towered over her. He had given her a hug the day before she died and her head had fit perfectly just under his chin. She was so small, tiny in fact and yet still he could not believe that a person as expansive as she had been, with such a large personality as she had had could fit in such a undersized box

When Harry had arrived, Scrimgeour, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody were already seated at one end of the front row of chairs and beside them were two figures. Harry had been seated beside and although he didn’t recognise them he assumed that they were Ted and Andromeda Tonks. 

Ted was the image of his daughter. It was almost as if by totally accepting her magical heritage from her mother, Tonks had opted to resemble her Muggle parent just to even things out. Ted Tonks had sandy hair, blue eyes and a round face that looked as though it smiled a lot. He was not smiling today. 

Andromeda was a rather lovely combination of Narcissa and Bellatrix. Bellatrix’s looks must have suffered in prison, because when Harry knew her she seemed rather brittle and her features had become pinched. Narcissa’s beauty had been marred until recently by haughtiness; well at least in Harry’s opinion.

But Andromeda was truly beautiful, Harry thought. She sat pale and still with her hand resting on her husband’s arm, her dark hair falling around her shoulders, her eyes shadowed with a veil.

She sat and listened as person after person stood in front of the assembled mourners and told what they knew of Tonks and how much they had loved her.

Finally Kingsley, as the Auror closest to Tonks began to talk about her and her life and Harry found himself mesmerised by Kingsley’s deep voice with its rich timbre. He talked about Tonks the Auror. How full of energy and spirit she had been.

The morning had been beautiful, with warm sunshine streaming down on them all and birds singing merrily. It seemed wrong to Harry that life just carried on like that. It should have been raining today he thought. He was actually quite pleased to see the mist rolling in quietly as the morning wore on.

“She really was a very special person Tonks was.” Kingsley said. “She was brave and funny and one of my very dearest friends, for all that she was so much younger than me. She was kind and generous and forgiving but woe betides anyone who called her Nymphadora. I teased her with the name when she first joined Magical Law Enforcement and she hexed me with such a severe case of boils that I could not sit down for week!

“Nothing seemed to work to remove them and it was only when I sought her out, apologised and promised not to call her by her first name ever again that the boils mysteriously disappeared.

“She was some amazing witch. Very powerful, immensely strong, but despite her magic and despite her talent as a metamorphmagus other things were even more important to her.

“She believed in truth and she believed in justice. She believed that we in the magical world could build a new future where prejudice and hatred were a thing of the past. She believed that all men and women were equal. No matter their heritage or their upbringing or their blood.”

Kingsley was looking directly at Remus when he spoke. Remus though could not meet anyone’s eye. His own eyes were fixed on the twisted scrap of handkerchief that he held in his lap. He was not going to speak today, because it was apparently considered bad form.

Severus said that Andromeda had wanted Remus to say a few words, but that Remus had declined. His uncle had been rather scathing about that, insinuating that Remus was a coward. But Harry thought that Remus didn’t want to spoil the ceremony. He wanted people to think about Tonks and her life. Not start gossip about whom she had loved. He also thought that Severus had a bit of a cheek going on about Remus like he had, when he had done just the same thing for the same reason and abandoned Harry to Arthur’s ministrations.

Harry thought that his uncle was not very sensible about Remus sometimes.

Remus had come quite late and had been directed to the back of the group of chairs by one of the Ministry officials, only to find himself grabbed by Ted Tonks and moved to the very front as part of the family, where he was seated firmly beside Harry. Scrimgeour had scowled at them but said nothing.

Remus was sobbing quietly as Kingsley continued to speak and Harry echoed Andromeda’s actions earlier and placed his hand on Remus’ arm. Harry’s hand, pale with lack of sunlight for the last few weeks, stood out starkly against Remus’ dark robe. 

“Tonks was a very special person.” Kingsley continued. “She believed in people and she believed in Harry Potter.”

Harry sat stiffly in his chair. He could sense people looking over at him, hear them muttering, but he forced himself not to react.

“This young man inspired her with his courage and his selflessness. Qualities which Tonks also had in abundance. She died because she could not let _Voldemort”_

Gasps of shock and surprise rippled through the audience when Kingsley said the Dark Lord’s name and people looked around as if expecting him to leap out from behind a gravestone. And wouldn’t they get a surprise if he did Harry thought sourly.

But Kingsley was carrying on, seemingly undeterred by the kafuffle he had caused. He just raised his voice a tiny bit and continued.

“She _would not_ let Voldemort win, not if she could help it. She did everything she could to work towards his defeat. Even undertaking to spy for the Light. A task that she knew to be onerous and difficult, a task which until recently had been fulfilled by Severus Snape, a man that she had long admired.”

There were more gasps from the mourners then, but Harry was not sure whether it was the mention of Severus’ name that had shocked them or the fact that Kingsley had just told everyone that Tonks had admired Severus.

“Tonks was unwavering in her belief that the evil that is Voldemort must be defeated and in order that such a defeat should come about she was prepared to pay the ultimate price. She died bravely saving someone that she believed deserved to be saved.”

This time he was talking about Narcissa. Harry couldn’t see her from where he was sitting but he did hear the murmurs that washed around him sounding for all the world like the nearby sea washing on the shore. Perhaps people were wondering who Kingsley was talking about. Severus had told him that very few people knew how Tonks had died, because the Order had agreed to keep it secret from the magical public. They did not want to risk Voldemort finding out that they had had one of his precious Horcruxes in their possession and destroyed it.

Kingsley’s voice was breaking and it was hoarse with suppressed tears.

But he had not quite finished; he had a little more to say.

“Tonks was a very wonderful person and I for one am honoured that I knew her. I will miss her with all my heart, I will think of her every day. Sleep well dear friend you have more than played your part in the battle against evil. The world is a darker place now that you have gone ahead.”

The tears that Kingsley had suppressed though his tribute were now streaming down his cheeks but he ignored them. Instead he turned slowly to face Tonks’ coffin raised his hand to his face and stood tall and unwavering in a silent salute.

A large number of the mourners were sobbing by now, one by one they stood as an auror that Harry didn’t know marched over to the little wooden box on the dais ahead of them. He was carrying a folded flag. 

The Union Flag.* 

Even though the magical world and the Muggle world were mostly separate the British flag was still used in the magical world and as Tonks had in effect died for her country, she deserved to have it draped over her coffin 

As the flag was arranged a figure playing the bagpipes emerged from the mist that had slowly been encroaching and thickening throughout the ceremony. The figure was wearing a kilt and the strains of “Flowers of the Forest,” echoed into the silence. It was not until the piper came and stood alongside the dais that Harry realised that it was Oliver Wood. Harry had forgotten that Oliver had become an Auror. He played the pipes beautifully and Harry found that now his own cheeks were wet with tears. It was as if the mournful strains of the music had given them all permission to express their grief.

All at once the ceremony was over. And people started to move away. There still was the official lunch at the Ministry to come, but first people wanted to say a few words to Tonk’s family.

Andromeda and Ted were surrounded by people. But they had insisted that Remus be included in their group. Both of them had smiled kindly at Harry when he had told them how sorry he was that Tonks had died. But Remus had hugged him tight.

He had whispered into Harry’s hair, his voice tight with tears. “You really did love her didn’t you, Harry?” And Harry had nodded firmly and said that yes he had loved Tonks and that he would miss her dreadfully.

Finally two cloaked figures reached the grieving couple and Andromeda’s face paled. She had managed not to cry throughout the entire ceremony but now tears were rolling down her cheeks too.

Harry was too far away to hear what was being said. But he saw Andromeda gently brush blonde hair from Narcissa’s face and then enfold her in a hug. It was such a tender gesture, so full of love that the lump that had been in Harry’s throat all morning seemed to swell in size and get even harder.

He found that he had to turn away when Ted Tonks embraced Draco.

They were such good people Harry thought. They didn’t deserve what had happened to their daughter, no one deserved that. He would have to kill Voldemort soon he thought to himself. 

All morning Harry’s heart had felt heavy with guilt over what he had done the night before.

But all at once he felt lighter than he had all day. The lump in his throat felt a little less solid, his heart felt just a little less sore

If he had not killed Tom Riddle the night before, then it might have been the Weasleys standing here mourning the loss of not only their daughter, but of Arthur too. Because Severus had told him that Riddle had enjoyed hexing Mr Weasley. 

It might have been him and Eileen as well, grieving over Severus.

Harry thought with a slight panic that he could not bear to lose his uncle now. He cared about him didn’t he? He really had come to care for his uncle! It was quite a revelation for Harry. But it helped him come to a realisation.

Harry had done the right thing.

He shivered.

The mist was really quite thick now; it was not so pleasant anymore. He felt as if all the feelings that had been washing over him in the last few minutes had dissolved, all the good feelings. His certainty that he had done the right thing. The stirrings of relief. Suddenly the guilt was back in force accompanied by a deep and aching sadness. 

Then Harry heard it. 

In a corner of his mind, on the edge of his consciousness. He heard a woman’s voice begin to scream.

All at once Harry knew that this was not any ordinary mist that was engulfing them

The graveyard was surrounded by Dementors. 

Mist cloaks everything. It deadens sound. But Harry must have unconsciously used his magic to augment his voice, because they told him later that everyone in the graveyard heard Harry scream that day. He bellowed out just one word

“RUN!!!!”

 

 

*The flag that Tonks’ coffin is wrapped in is often called the Union Jack. But according to many people, especially sailors, the Union Flag only can properly be given that name when it is being flown on a ship.   
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_Flag


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

Many thanks go to Claudia and Emma, who between them, have made these chapters so much better than they were

 

Chapter Thirty Two

 

Severus was standing by the lytch-gate* that led out of the churchyard, when he heard Harry’s shout. He turned to see dark, cloaked figures rising out of the mist. People were beginning to run towards him but it was clear that the narrow setting of the gate was going to cause a logjam. There were simply too many people to go through it and the dampener on magic meant that they could not remove or widen it. Praying that Eileen and Harry would be okay, he grabbed hold of an Auror who was rushing to get out of the way.

“Stay here,” he hissed, “we need to slow them down, get them through properly or someone will get crushed.” He and the Auror did their best to calm people down enough to listen to instructions but panic had set in. The dark figures were appearing from nowhere, ever more rapidly and people were becoming hysterical. Deep in the mist Severus saw a bright flash of light appear and take form. It galloped towards him, almost as if in salute before rushing off in another direction. It was Harry’s Patronus.

Soon it was joined by more flashes of light. He caught sight of an otter in the distance and a small terrier dog. Obviously the wards were allowing light magic to be performed and what could be lighter magic than a Patronus after all? 

Severus grabbed someone else to help him calm the alarmed mourners. It was Oliver Wood. “We have to stop them panicking Oliver!” he said urgently. “We have to get them calmed down.”

Oliver looked quite worried himself. In the mist they could make out shadowy shapes, hear muffled shouts and screams, it was absolutely terrifying. People continued to stagger towards them but all the time the mist grew thicker, more impenetrable. The initial surge of people had reached Severus, Oliver and the young Auror whose name Severus did not know.

Severus shouted, telling people to keep calm He was standing on a grave and felt a pang of sadness at that, but he had to make the terrified crowd listen to him.

For a moment he thought he might have got their attention. But then someone spotted a looming shape in the mist and began to scream

There was another surge of panic as the rising shape came of the fog to loom over them and more people began to scream, desperately trying to push forwards, to get away. Severus grabbed at a young girl who was in serious danger of being crushed, and shoved her behind him. Wood and the other young Auror were desperately trying to hold everyone back, but they were not strong enough, and all the time the large shape came ever closer.

“’Ere Sev’rus,” it finally said pushing a few people gently to one side as it finally reached him, “Need an ‘and?”

“Hagrid!” Severus had never been so pleased to see anyone in his entire life. He nearly wilted with relief.

Once the crushed group at the gate could see that it was Hagrid who had appeared, the surge of relief that went through them was almost palpable.

Wood and his companion managed to move everyone back, though it was not easy as there was still a feeling of panic in the air and a certain reluctance to move away from the perceived safety of the gate.

Now that the edge of hysteria had dissipated, Severus bellowed for silence. There were enough people in this small crowd who had been his students at Hogwarts for his voice to have an instant effect.

“Hornby,” he growled, “ stand there.” He pointed to a piece of ground just in front of the gate. “Everyone else, line up behind him.” Hornby was a bluff, red-faced man, a former Hufflepuff. He had, however, been quite good at potions and so Severus had never torn the man to shreds with quite the relish that he had used on some of his other students in the past.

Everything depended on Hornby obeying him; if he did, Severus knew that the others would probably fall into line behind him. He was glad that there had been at least one favourable article in the _Daily Prophet_ about him, informing the world of his innocence, before a flurry of others which started hinting at true darkness had begun. Severus worried about how he was being portrayed, not for himself he was used to being hated. But he wondered what the effect would be on Harry and Eileen. At least there had been one positive article, he only hoped it was enough.

Severus, however, had chosen well. Hornby fell into place and the crowd, pleased to have found someone to take charge at last, swiftly followed suit.

Severus quickly directed Hagrid to demolish the gate, remove its roof and widen the gap in the wall, which the huge man did with no problem whatsoever. Severus felt a slight pang at its destruction, but the gate could easily be rebuilt after all. People could not. Hagrid strode away in the direction of the Apparition field, the mist seemed thinner there and the bulky Groundskeeper became an easy figure for people to follow, away from the Dementors and away from the wards on the cemetery to the place where they could safely Apparate or Portkey away.

A whole crowd of people hurried after him, looking like nothing so much as a bunch of first years at the beginning of a new school term.

When they had first arrived at the funeral, Severus had thought that not many people were attending. Only about forty or so chairs had been laid out. But as the morning had worn on more and more mourners had arrived to pay their last respects to the lively young Auror, until Severus suspected that several hundred people had gathered to hear Kingsley’s speech. It had been gratifying and heart-warming that so many people had come. But now it was horrifying that those people who had gathered in sympathy were currently at the most terrible risk of joining Tonks in the afterlife.

The mist had continued to thicken and Severus could see barely anything now, until Eileen staggered in their direction. She was crying.

Severus rushed forward and caught her up in his arms. “Oh Sevvy,” she sobbed, “I can’t see Harry, I can’t find him!”

“It’s alright Mum, he’s safe, I can see his Patronus, it’s protecting him, it’s protecting us all I think.”

“I can’t go to him yet; we have to get everyone out first.” Severus knew that he could not go and look for Harry until he had made the exit as safe as possible. The boy would never forgive him if he put anyone else in danger for Harry’s sake. Severus also told himself, with more than a little pride, that his nephew was one of the people here today who was best able to protect himself from Dementor attack. Most of the people who were running in panic from the graveyard could no more conjure a Patronus than they could fly to the moon.

He looked at the young Auror, who had stayed with him, despite his obvious fear. “Will you take my mother to safety?” He asked, quietly. The young man looked at him steadily for a second or two. He was very young, hardly more than a boy himself it seemed. But there were a lot of children fighting this war, a war that they had had no part in creating. Severus had never seen him before, from his accent Severus thought he might be Australian and for a brief second he wondered what had brought the boy to Britain, to fight for their side.

The Auror met his gaze, seemingly without fear this time. “It would be an honour sir,” he said.

“I am not going anywhere Severus.” Eileen began, but Severus put a hand on her cheek, tenderly.

“Please Mum?” he said, “I need to find Harry, and I have to know that you’re safe. We both do.”

Her lip quivered, just a tiny bit, but she rapidly reached a decision. “I’ll go Sevvy, but if the two of you are not out of here in half an hour, no power on earth will stop me coming back to look for you both.”

Severus couldn’t help the small smile that escaped him at her words. He placed a quick kiss on her forehead and watched the young Auror lead her away to safety.

The gateway was more than wide enough now but hardly anyone had made it through in the last few minutes and Severus was getting worried that people were getting lost in the mist. But he couldn’t spare anyone to go and look for them; he just did not have enough sensible people to help him right now. They needed someone to show any more confused mourners, who arrived at the gate to safety, but they also needed to guard the exit and they needed to find those that were wandering lost in the mist. 

With no warning Alastor Moody emerged from the fog. The old Auror cut a distinctive figure even in all the gloom; he was a fearsome sight indeed in the circumstances. Severus mused that Moody was probably a fearsome sight to most people in just about any circumstances. But Oliver Wood seemed pleased to have his assistance. Severus swallowed his dislike for the man.

“I’m glad you are here,” he said to Moody as sincerely as he could, “I need to get to Harry. We need to make sure he is safe, and we still need to get people out. Not enough have left so far, there must be at least a hundred or so still trapped in that graveyard. We need someone here to guide them out.” 

The Auror looked at him steadily for a moment.

“You do what you need to, me lad,” he said calmly, “I’ll get ‘em out, “

Severus felt like a weight had been lifted from him.

He nodded at the grizzled man.

“We have to get them here first, Severus said, “We have to send people out through the gate. It’s the only way out of the graveyard and we have to help them find it.”

“It’s alright laddie,” Moody said, “You go get your nephew, we’ll get the rest of ‘em out. Wood here can help with that.”

Severus decided to trust him. He turned away from the gap in the old stone wall where the lytch-gate had been and ran as quickly as he could, considering that he was almost totally blinded by the fog, towards what seemed to be the thickest part of the mist. It was here that he could see the tell-tale flashes of light which indicated the casting of powerful spells. He was sure that this was where Harry was.

He moved as quickly as he could under the circumstances idly wondering how on earth Moody would direct people to the gate in such a thick fog.

Then all at once he knew. 

Through the mist behind him he could hear the distinctive wailing of bagpipes and just for a moment his heart leapt.

Oliver was playing. He was leading the lost home.

There had always been something magical about the sound of the pipes, they had been played in Scotland for hundreds of years. That wonderful, hideous wailing, would cut through the thick fog like nothing else on earth. 

His heart lightened a little bit. Maybe there was a chance that they could get people to safety after all?

He still couldn’t see much of anything himself. Vague shapes, which loomed up from nowhere and proved to be bushes or trees occupied all his attention for a moment or two. There was no sign of anyone living. No people at all.

He stumbled on, uncertain, now, as to which direction the flashes of light had come from. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears and still in the distance seemingly far behind him, the mournful call of the pipes.

All at once his foot caught on something. Something soft but unyielding and Severus went crashing to the ground. He felt around him to see what had brought him down. This part of the mist was so think that he literally could not see his hand in front of his face.

The thing that he had fallen over was a body.

Severus’ breath caught. It hitched in his throat and for a moment he almost panicked. The person, whoever it was, was still breathing.

“Please,” Severus muttered to himself, “Whoever you are, please don’t have been Kissed.”

It was a fate that had so nearly been Severus’, if not for Albus speaking up for him, he would have been Kissed for certain. He was still not sure that he wouldn’t end up being Kissed anyway. Harry had defended him he knew, but he wondered whether at the end of all things even Harry’s defense would be enough. For the moment Severus was enjoying freedom, if living what passed for his life right now could be called enjoyment! But he did not truly expect it to last. One day soon he thought it would all catch up with him?

He was sobbing silently to himself. He hadn’t slept the night before; he hadn’t slept for a long time. He was always so worried these days, so anxious. The mist was encroaching into his head, sapping his will, draining him. All he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. He knew that he could not give in to that feeling; he had to stand up and move on.

But first he had to check the unconscious form beside him. Just to make sure.

He was willing whoever he had found to be all right. He was laying face down, the shape of the body suggested that it was a man that Severus had found.

Severus sent one more silent prayer to whatever God had heard him before and then he put both his hands behind the man’s shoulder and carefully turned him over.

He was in no way prepared for who he found.

“Remus?”

The name was wrenched from him. 

It was Remus Lupin, lying here in front of him, pale and cold and breathing shallowly.

Severus wanted to kill something. He wanted to tear the Dark Lord’s heart out and stamp on it.

“Oh Remus! 

“Shit, fuck, buggeration, no! Oh fuck, no! Remus!””

They had never had a chance really had they? Him and Remus. There had always been something, _someone_ to get in the way. The other Marauders, Remus’ Lycanthropy, Nymphadora Tonks, Severus’ own pride.

Severus rarely cried.

The only time that he had even shed a tear in recent years was when his mother told him she was dying. Even his sobs earlier had left him dry-eyed.

But now he cried. He cried for Remus Lupin. The last true Marauder and the man that he loved. 

He wrapped his arms around prone form of the werewolf and sat rocking him gently. He let the tears flow down his cheeks unchecked. He cried for what might have been, if only he had had a bit more bravery, if only Remus had. In a moment he would have to move. He would have to find Harry. But just for now, wrapped in this timeless mist, he could hold onto his beloved werewolf and no-one could see him, or judge him or laugh at him.

Remus’ eyes were closed and he was still breathing gently. Severus tenderly brushed a clump of hair away from Remus’ eyes unconsciously echoing the gesture he had used with Harry only the night before.

The tears were flowing fast now and Severus threw his head back, trying to clear them away. He didn’t want to remove his hands from the fallen werewolf. He blinked hard and looked up at the sky. Or at least he looked at where the sky would be if only this infernal mist were not in the way.

“Severus?” asked a voice. It was dull and scratchy. “Severus, is Harry all right?”

Severus heart leapt. “Remus?” he said, forgetting for a moment who he was with, letting down his guard.

“You’re okay? I thought you were dead.” His deep black eyes met the yellow brown of the werewolf’s eyes, something passed between them then, a deep understanding, a connection before Severus dropped him.

“Ouch!”

Lupin looked completely confused.

“Severus, I think that I tripped, I have banged my head.” Lupin said ruefully. He was rubbing a patch on the back of his head and staring in a rather puzzled way at Severus.

“I thought that the Dementors had got to you,” Severus said sullenly 

Remus gave a short, bitter laugh. “So did I for a moment,” he said, “But I think that I was lucky, that their interest is concentrated elsewhere right now.

He stared ahead of them, into the mist. Severus could see light flashes again.

“Harry!” Both men said at exactly the same time. Just for a second they shared a glance. Each of them cared deeply about the boy, didn’t they?

Severus grabbed Lupin’s arm to support him, the man was probably very unsteady after his fall and they had to stay together in the mist he told himself firmly, it was only sensible. Lupin didn’t object. In fact he looped his own arm through Severus’ own. It felt so good not to be alone.

They moved forward as fast as they could the ground was too bumpy for them to run, the fog too thick. 

So they stumbled onwards, holding tightly to each other for safety’s sake.

It seemed like they had been travelling for hours, but really it could not have been more than ten minutes since Severus had been at the lytch-gate, twenty since the panic had begun.

Up ahead, Severus could hear shouting, and the mist seemed finally to be clearing away. It grew finer, paler, until it was little more than wispy clouds of white. On the other side of the fog the day was bright and glorious. The sun burned down and after the gloom of the mist it almost hurt his eyes.

On a large patch of grass just in front of them there were about 200 people all grouped together. They looked quite frightened, they were hugging eachother, and several people were crying. But they were safe. Each and every one of them were safe. All around the group, in strategic positions still casting Patronuses were the children who had formed Dumbledore’s Army. 

Luna Lovegood was there, and Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. But there were others too, about fifteen in all, a number of distinctive red-heads amongst them. At the very front, his eyes dancing, alight with the thrill of the battle stood Harry and right beside him, appearing a little nervous, but determined to do his part, a very dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy.

Harry lifted his wand again and from the end flew yet another bright stag, which galloped joyfully toward Severus and Remus. Just for a moment, Severus thought they might be trampled, but then the magnificent creature veered off and closely followed by a hoard of other animal shapes it charged into the mist. 

The mist which was rapidly disappearing at last, being chased away, dissolved by an odd assortment of motley creatures. 

There were dogs and a bear, as well as a strange magical creature, which he did not recognise. They each plunged into the thick whiteness in their turn as if taking part in a joyful game and in their wake followed three smaller creatures: a wild cat, an otter and smallest of all, but determinedly bringing up the rear, a glowing, white ferret. 

 

* If you want to see a lytch-gate go here http://www.history.uk.com/churches/index.php?archive=2 The gate in this story is surrounded by a high wall, but lytch-gates typically have roofs and I have seen them surrounded by fairly high walls.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Thanks to Claudia and Emma, for making this better!

 

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Ministry Atrium was a scene of complete and utter pandemonium. It resembled some sort of refugee camp, like the ones Harry remembered seeing on the news on TV when he had lived at the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon had delighted in showing Harry such pictures and had always made sure to point out that Harry was so lucky compared to those people.

Harry thought that Vernon had been right, he was lucky compared to them.

But here and now Harry just wanted to go home to Grimmauld Place.

People looked like they had had an awful time. They were battered and bruised and dirty. A number of them were wearing bandages or were smothered in healing potions, some were staring ahead as if seeing nothing and some were crying. At least the Dementors hadn’t got anyone though, not a single person had been Kissed.

Harry felt really, really old. For most of these people what had happened today was the worst thing that they had ever lived through.

Harry felt rather envious of them. He wanted to be as horrified as they were, as appalled by what had happened as they seemed to be. As far as Harry was concerned it had been quite a good day. After all nobody’d died.

But people were hugging each other; many of them complete strangers as far as he could see. Family members were holding each other close as if they would never let go, and everywhere that Harry went, people stopped talking and watched him pass as if he were some sort of hero. They would whisper to each other and point at him. It was really freaking him out.

For some reason one of the Aurors had taken Harry’s wand. It had to be weighed they told him. They had taken everyone else’s wand too so he didn’t feel all that bad about it, at least he wasn’t being singled out. Harry hated being singled out. He just wanted to be normal, that was all he had ever wanted. But it was finally dawning on Harry that he was never going to be considered normal by anyone.

Even though he had sequestered himself off in this corner, he was still being stared at.

He tried not to catch anyone’s eye. Severus and Eileen were currently engaged in a loud argument with the Minister for Magic. Well Eileen was arguing anyway and the Minister was nodding and backing away. When they had arrived here from the graveyard Scrimgeour had again tried to have Severus arrested. He had insinuated that Severus had had something to do with the Dementor attack. That was when Neville’s gran had hit Scrimgeour with her umbrella. 

She had apparently been friends with Eileen for years. They had been fellow team members in the Gobstones club at Hogwarts, so Severus had told him anyway; and she was currently proving to be a formidable friend indeed. They were doing such a good job that Harry felt he didn’t have to say a word this time

Severus had not noticed that Mrs Longbottom had been amongst the first group of people that he had rescued at the cemetery. She was currently extolling his bravery to anyone who would listen and Severus looked as uncomfortable as Harry would feel with all that attention. They had shared a brief look of sympathy, Harry and his uncle, before Harry had scuttled over to this corner to get some peace.

There were plenty of other people who could talk about what had happened today. Harry didn’t have to do it. Hermione and Ron were speaking to Kingsley. From the way they were waving their arms about he thought that they were probably describing their initial encounter with the Dementors.

Harry saw a strange looking figure moving purposely towards him through the throngs of people. “Oh no,” he thought to himself, “not another loony.” But he didn’t move because there was something strangely familiar about the figure who was working his way over. 

It was only when the figure got closer that Harry realised that it was Draco. 

Harry was seated on a well-polished wooden bench. He shuffled over and let his boyfriend sit down beside him. Draco looked absolutely dreadful and Harry almost hadn’t recognised him for a moment. His robes were torn and covered in grass stains. And he was wearing a very peculiar orange and green bobble hat. It looked like it had been made by someone who was not only colour-blind but who had no use of their fingers.

Even if one included the various dreadful items that Harry had seen Dobby wearing over the years it was easily the most hideous hat that he had ever seen. Harry was sure that Draco hadn’t had it on when they arrived. He didn’t think it was the sort of thing that Draco would wear under any circumstances, it was absolutely disgusting.

“Draco,” Harry said, “why are you wearing that hat? It’s not some weird Slytherin thing is it?” 

The look that Draco gave him was a bizarre combination of the infinitely sad and the suitably scathing.

“I am wearing it because somebody spat on me, Harry,” he said rather sadly. 

Harry looked at him in astonishment.

“They did what?” he growled. 

Draco shrugged, “I’m pretty distinctive you know. I look just like my dad, and Mum has stayed right beside Andromeda so those that hate us can’t bother her at the moment; not near the grieving couple. So it looks like I’m the target for today. Hermione gave me this; she said it would disguise me. She has a whole load of hats and scarves. She keeps them shrunk, really small, in one of her pockets.” 

“Oh!” said Harry, “I thought that she had got over that. Maybe she kept them for sentimental reasons or something?”

Draco looked puzzled. “What are you on about?”

But Harry dismissed the question. “Are you all right Draco?” he asked, tenderly. “Do you want to show me who spat at you and Ron and I will go and rearrange their features?”

Draco gave a short bitter laugh. “Way to overcome prejudice, Potter!” he said scathingly, "that’ll make them like me won’t it?” He looked really wounded for a moment and Harry wondered just how isolated Draco felt now. He must miss his friends Harry thought. But Draco continued to speak, albeit somewhat less bitterly, “nah, I think I’ll stick with the hat. If that is alright with you?”

Harry looked at him sadly, “you did really well back at the graveyard Draco, you helped save a lot of people and you don’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Draco shrugged, “I guess I’m going to have to get used to it aren’t I?” 

Then he looked back at Harry from the corner of his eyes, it was as if he couldn’t quite face him. “I’m sorry Harry,” he said quietly, “for being such a twit yesterday and for ignoring you all those other days.”

Harry reached over and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and turned him gently so that he was looking directly into his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

Draco let out a strange snort of laughter 

“What have you got to be sorry about?” 

“That I didn’t go after you. That I moped about like some daft git when I should have just come and found you and done this.”

Harry reached over and whipped the hideous hat off Draco’s head exposing the white blond hair for everyone to see. Draco flinched for a moment. But it was only a moment because before he even had time to draw breath, let alone formulate a comment Harry was kissing him.

Up until now Draco had been the one doing the leading in their relationship. Harry just hadn’t felt confident enough to take charge, unless of course he was in his animagus form. But the blond boy looked so battered today, so lost and beaten down that it had brought out Harry’s protective Gryffindor side. 

When the Dementors had come, Draco had been the first person that Harry had gone looking for. He had quickly lost Arthur in the crowd but he was not really worried about Arthur, he knew that he could take care of himself. Dementors didn’t bother Harry too much these days, not after…not after the time with Sirius in his third year. His only problem today had been choosing which happy memory to use to conjure his Patronus.

That more than anything had shown Harry how his life had changed. There had been a time when there had been so few happy memories to choose from. 

But now?

Now there was a plethora of memories and Harry felt truly blessed. Being hugged by his uncle, finding his gran. All the little things that they did for him, all the tender loving little things. And Draco. Draco kissing him, Draco making love to him. 

He had shivered a little at the sheer deliciousness of that particular memory.

Harry had had a bit of a paradigm shift in the graveyard.

He had realised that he was truly fond of his uncle. That he loved his gran and that his life was so much richer than it had been the last time that he had had to face Dementors. But more than that, more than any of that, Harry had Draco now.

When Harry had found his lover, Draco had been cowering behind a fallen gravestone.

After the Dementors had attacked they had headed straight for Andromeda and Ted and because they were standing beside them at the time, Draco and Narcissa. The couple were broadcasting very strong emotion Harry suspected. How could they not be considering it was their daughter’s funeral? Unfortunately they were just the sort of emotions on which Dementors thrive and of course made them perfect targets for the soul sucking monsters to focus on. But Draco had tried to lead them away.

When Harry had found him he had been surrounded and Harry had enjoyed seeing his patronus stag charging the dreadful creatures down. He had already caught sight of a couple of his friends in the mist and they had been casting Patronuses too. It had been a fairly simple task to organise everyone and have them cast their spells in a systematic way, gathering up people as they moved through the mist. 

At first Draco had seemed terrified, but he had rallied and tried to cast a Patronus like the others. Severus had apparently taught him the spell, when they had been on the run together but he had never been successful. However standing in that graveyard in the midst of all the panic and confusion with a smile on his lips from the kisses that Harry had rained on him when he had found him, Draco had finally managed the spell.

He had looked so bewildered when the ferret had erupted from the end of his wand that Harry had had to laugh, and then he had kissed Draco again and all at once he had just _known_ that things were going to be all right.

After that it had all seemed so easy. The members of Dumbledore’s Army had quickly gathered momentum and before they knew it the mist was disappearing and they had won.

Harry had felt elated and full of energy and for the first time in ages he felt truly happy. Harry’s world was far from perfect. He still had a dark lord out to kill him and he was not planning on going anywhere near Mrs Weasley at anytime soon. But he had people who cared about him, who were proud of him. Everyone he cared about was safe, for now at least and so he was perfectly content to sit here, in the middle of all the chaos, snogging his boyfriend for all he was worth.

He was barely aware of the gasps coming from the various knots of people that could not seem to be avoided, even though they were hidden in one corner of the Ministry atrium. It was Draco that pulled away, Draco that pointed out that people might not want to see their saviour kissing the child of Death Eaters, the boy known to have betrayed the Light and helped to kill Dumbledore.

Harry looked around in confusion when Draco said that, and finally noticed some of the glares being directed at them.

Harry glared back.

“You know what Draco?” he said somewhat belligerently. More than loud enough for anyone in the immediate vicinity to hear him. “I don’t give a fuck, what they think. You are my boyfriend and I love you and if they don’t like that, it is not my problem. Now stop worrying and be quiet, I want to kiss you!”

And so he did.

 

 

Severus heard the murmur of surprise that ran through the Atrium and turned to see what had caused it. He couldn’t help the smile that escaped him when he caught sight of Harry and Draco. The boys had obviously made up. 

He marvelled at the resilience of teenagers. This morning he had been really worried about Harry, but somehow during the funeral and the Dementor attack Harry seemed to have recovered his natural exuberance. He was bubbling over with the sort of energy that Severus had not seen him display for a very long time.

When they had Apparated back to the Ministry Harry had rushed over to his gran, picked her up, twirled her around and then dropped a kiss on her forehead before placing her gently back on the ground.

Eileen had been astonished.

“I have happy memories, Gran!” he’d told her joyfully before turning to his Uncle and exclaiming again, “Happy memories Severus!” They had travelled back together he and Harry, Severus had felt strangely reluctant to let him go on his own again, he wanted to be near him.

“You are a happy memory, Gran and so is Severus!! And Draco! I have so many that I didn’t know which one to choose. Because I didn’t used to. It took me ages to find one in third year! I nearly didn’t learn to cast a Patronus at all because I didn’t have a happy enough memory,” Harry was babbling.

Severus had never seen Harry like this. He had noticed him laugh and joke with his friends before, but never, not since he had first become aware of a black haired, green-eyed little first year in the Great Hall on Sorting Night had he seen Harry so full of life and bubbling with happiness. And never in all that time, had he been so forcefully reminded of Lily.

Lily had been exuberant like this, Lily had bubbled over with life and enthusiasm too.

In the last few days Harry had seemed more and more downtrodden and lost and Severus had been despairing for him. But now? It was as if something incredible had happened to Harry sometime in the last few hours. Something that they were not privy to, surely it could not be as simple a thing as a few happy memories?

Then Severus had thought about what Harry had said and he felt like someone had landed a blow to his solar plexus. Harry had learned to cast a Patronus in his third year, when he had been only thirteen years old. He had managed a feat of magic that should not be possible for any thirteen-year-old, but if what he was telling them now was true and Severus saw no reason that it should not be, then he had nearly failed, not because his magic was not strong enough but because Harry had had no happy memories from his childhood to draw upon, none at all!

Severus’ childhood had been a truly difficult one. But with a little thought he could come up with dozens of happy memories. He and his mother going on a picnic, day trips to the sea-side, a bicycle on his seventh birthday with a red frame and a shiny silver bell.

For the first time Severus truly had an inkling of what Harry’s life had been like. He had known for a while that Harry had never been the spoiled prince of Severus’ imaginings, but his life had been so much worse than Severus had ever realised.

Strange, that such a stupid phrase could make him understand how awful his nephew’s life had been before Hogwarts. And in many ways had continued to be pretty dreadful until now, he supposed. Nothing else that he had seen in the last few weeks, not the bruises, the insecurities, or the shyness had brought it home to him, not like this at least. Not where he could feel it in his bones.

As he stood watching his nephew whisper to Draco and kiss his boyfriend again, gently on the nose, ignoring the world around them and sharing a moment of tenderness, an intimacy that seemed to make Harry glow, Severus made a silent vow.

“I promise you Harry, that whatever happens in the weeks and months ahead,” he whispered to himself, “I promise to ensure that you have lots of happy memories to treasure in the years to come.”


	34. Chapter Thirty-four

**This bit of the story has more twists and turns than a twisty turny thing. There is another cliffhanger in this chapter, if it bothers you please wait until tomorrow for the next bit**

Thank you Claudia for improving this beyond all measure>

 

Thirty Four

 

The crowd at the Ministry did not seem to be thinning out at all and they had been here for hours now. This was what bureaucracy did for you it seemed, it made your life dreary and hellish.

When Severus saw Lupin approaching out of the corner of his eye, he felt a moment of panic. Would the werewolf remember that Severus had cried all over him? He hoped not! He was not planning on talking to Lupin about that or anything else anytime soon, that was for certain.

Surely the man would realise that Severus had been affected by the Dementors? That it was the emotionally draining effect of the mist that they generated that had made him lose control like that. Even Muggles felt it apparently, so Severus was obviously no exception. They had been lucky after all. Harry seemed to have an early warning system when it came to Dementors. Severus knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it were not for Harry people would have died today. He had given them enough warning to be able to flee had and then formed a small army to deal with the attack.

Lupin, having spotted him, was on his way over. Severus wondered whether he should go and check on Harry. But for a man who had obviously been concussed Lupin moved very fast. Werewolves had phenomenal abilities for recovery it seemed and before Severus could move away, Lupin was beside him

“Severus,” he said mildly, a small smile on his lips, as he spoke. “I wanted to thank you for helping me earlier, without your assistance. I…I may well have died.”

“On the contrary Lupin, I am sure you would have been absolutely fine!” Severus replied shortly. “You do have an unfortunate Gryffindor tendency to over dramatise the smallest incidents.”

Lupin was standing very close to him now. Severus could feel the other man’s breath on his cheek.

For a moment he closed his eyes, hoping to restore his equilibrium, hoping that the werewolf would leave him alone. But Severus had never been a man who had his wishes answered, had he?

“Do I Severus? Do I really?” Lupin asked in that tight, clipped accent of his. Severus could hear the blood rushing in his ears, could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“Are you sure that is what you truly believe?”

Severus’ mouth felt completely dry; there was no way he could speak right now.

“I am going with Ted and Andromeda for a while,” the werewolf said, “but I will not be gone long. Maybe we could talk later?”

Severus blanched.

“I really don’t know what you think we might have to talk about Lupin,” Severus said coldly, pulling himself together with not a little effort.

Lupin smiled one of his infernal, gentle smiles and Severus wanted to slap him.

He reached up and put a hand against Severus cheek. Severus felt the fingers burn him like a brand.

Then the werewolf turned on his heel and walked away.

Within a moment he was gone and Severus felt raw. He didn’t quite know what was happening to him. Surely it was just the mist, the infernal mist that had made him lose control like that? What if Lupin had not been completely unconscious? What if he had heard Severus sobbing like a child that has lost its mother, like someone who has lost a lov…..? No, he was not going to think about that right now.

Even if he were interested in Lupin. Even if could trust him, which Severus knew that he most certainly could not. The man’s fiancé had just died. What the hell was Lupin playing at? What sort of monster did Lupin take him to be? Severus might have been a spy. He might have done many things of which he was ashamed, but he had morals, standards. He was not about to take advantage of someone who was grieving. He would not let himself be used either.

He shivered. 

But he couldn’t help observing Lupin. Even if it was surreptitiously. He couldn’t help watch the man trying to comfort Andromeda. There seemed to be no sign of the broken man that Lupin had been earlier at the funeral service. Except, perhaps, for a trace of sorrow in his eyes, a tightness around his mouth.

It was sometime later, after quite a bit of negotiation that Ted and Andromeda Tonks had been allowed to leave at last. They had gone some time ago and they had taken Narcissa and Lupin with them. A number of Aurors had escorted them back to the graveyard where Tonks’ funeral had been so dreadfully disrupted. Her coffin was still waiting to be interred, so they had left the mayhem at the Ministry to go and bury their daughter. Severus was unaccountably, very aware of Lupin’s absence.

But Draco had stayed. Narcissa seemed wobbly enough about what had happened earlier and she was not planning on putting Draco in any more danger, for the foreseeable future at least. Although Severus thought they would be safe enough now, he thought that as long as Harry was here at the Ministry everyone else would be okay. Severus thought that Harry had probably been the focus of the attack, though he was not about to tell his nephew that. Harry had behaved like the hero he was today. In full sight of a significant number of the wizarding world. What the people trapped in that graveyard had witnessed was true bravery and leadership. Harry’s actions would be reported and no doubt distorted, as indeed they always were, but enough people had seen the truth this time, that the papers would at least have to try to be accurate in their reporting.

Harry was finding it hard enough to deal with the increased adoration that he seemed already to be experiencing. He did not need to feel the added burden of guilt that would surely assail him if he realised that the attack might not have taken place at all if he had not been there.

But then again, perhaps it would have happened anyway. Who truly knew what went on in that madman’s brain?

Now that Severus was no-longer privy to the Dark Lord’s thoughts he worried that he might not be able protect Harry as well as he had always tried to do in the past. Although he thought, he was still able to take an educated guess about Voldemort’s intentions. Tonks’ murder would have not been planned, as until her last moments she had them completely fooled. Still there was no doubt that Voldemort would have made use of her death.

Severus should really have stopped Harry going to the funeral at all, he knew that now. He should have guessed that it would not be safe. Voldemort would have known that Harry would be there. His friendship with the young Auror had been no secret. They would just have to watch Harry even more closely from now on.

Harry and Draco were still sitting together in their corner. Harry had his arm around his boyfriend and was saying something to him, quietly. At least people were avoiding Draco now, giving him a wide birth. Harry could not have made it clearer how he felt about the blond boy. He had hardly stopped hugging and kissing him since they had reunited. 

People didn’t seem to know what to make of it all.

Severus was currently listening in to the conversation that his mother was having with Rita Skeeter. The journalist had arrived just as the Tonks’ party had departed. Severus thought that they should be grateful that they, at least, had escaped the odious woman.

He was just relieved that he didn’t have to speak to her, his mother seemed to be doing fine all on her own. Eileen was nobody’s fool it seemed. She had only agreed to speak to the journalist if she got copy approval and she had brought along her own _Quick Quotes Quill_. The journalist had acquiesced quickly enough. Getting an interview with woman who was not only the mother of an infamous “ex” Death Eater and former spy, but was also the grandmother of the Chosen One was indeed a coup.

Skeeter was sitting beside them now, twittering away, seemingly unaware of how coldly Eileen was regarding her. She was commenting too on Harry and Draco’s relationship, obviously fishing for information. But Eileen refused to be drawn on that subject at all.

“If you want to speak to my grandson, then I’ll have to ask him how he feels about it. I don’t think he would be too happy with the idea, considering what’s been written about him and his family in the past.” Eileen was making a rather pointed reference to the recent articles about them, he knew. “I suppose whether Harry agrees to any interviews might well depend on how this article turns out,” Eileen continued. 

Severus had to hide his smirk. Eileen knew full well that Harry was not planning on giving any interviews any time soon, but the idea that he may would help ensure that the article that Skeeter wrote on them might at least be fair.

Not that there weren’t plenty of people around who were saying good things about them at the moment.

Severus had already had several people thank him for his actions in the graveyard. Even, Mad-Eye-Moody had come stomping over as soon as they had arrived back and shaken Severus’ hand. 

“You did well today laddie,” he’d said. “I have never liked you. Always thought you a slimy two-faced beggar. But when it was needed, when it counted, you came through and that means a lot in my book!” Severus had not known what to say to that

Severus had sought out the young Auror from the graveyard for himself though. Taking care of Eileen would not have been an easy task. His mother could be quite formidable when she wanted to be and he knew she had not been happy to leave him and Harry behind.

But the young Auror had waved away his thanks. His name was Robert Bones, but he insisted that his friends all called him Robbie and that, it seemed, included Severus as far as Robbie was concerned. Severus liked Robbie; he was laid back and friendly and seemed to get on equally well with Harry and Eileen, in the short time that he had spent with them when he and Harry had first arrived back at least. Robbie was actually twenty-three and had come to this country because of the death of his favourite aunt Amelia.

He and Severus had had quite a satisfying chat about the uselessness of the Ministry in general and Scrimgeour in particular. Although obviously they had had to keep their voices low.

Robbie it seemed wanted to avenge the death of his Aunt and as far as he could see Harry was his best option for that.

Severus considered discussing with Albus that the young man might be considered an asset to the Order of the Phoenix, before realising with a pang. That Albus was no-longer around to discuss these things, especially as his portrait had not yet woken up. For all intents and purposes Severus and Harry were the leaders of the light. 

Severus thought he would discuss it with Harry instead, although he didn’t see a problem with the idea. Harry and Robbie had seemed to get on very well and had had a long discussion about Cricket. Not many wizards had even heard of the game. But Severus, whatever else he was, was a Yorkshire man. And everyone from Yorkshire knows what sort of a game Cricket is. The three of them, had spent a very pleasant twenty minutes talking about games they had seen or heard in Harry’s case. Apparently many a summer chore had been made less onerous for Harry when he heard Brian Johnstone on the radio reporting from Lords.* 

He checked on Harry again. They were safe here, he knew, but Severus could not quite shake off the feeling of unease that left a tingling in his spine and had the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

And so he kept surreptitiously watching his nephew from time to time, whilst wishing that he could get them away from here. Back home to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Draco were chatting with Ron and Hermione right now, though they were soon joined by Luna. It turned out that the strange Patronus creature he had seen belonged to her it was apparently a _Crumple-Horned Snorkack_. Severus had thought that these creatures did not exist, but obviously they did, otherwise Luna would not have been able to have one as her Patronus. She was a very strange child, Severus mused.

He wondered how much longer they would have to be here. The Ministry it seemed was not about to let anyone go until they had all been thoroughly questioned.

Scrimgeour kept scowling at him from across the Atrium, but Severus couldn’t bring himself to care. He just wanted to go home and sink up to his neck in a glorious hot bath, and then he would sleep. It was after seven in the evening now and it had been a very long day. 

It was still very crowded at the Ministry. But finally someone must have decided to try and make things more comfortable for the numerous people still gathered in the Atrium. Severus could see a woman with a trolley wandering through the crowd selling food, she looked very familiar, He thought she was probably the witch that they saw at the end of each summer on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry had obviously spotted her too. He and Draco got up to saunter over. They were holding hands and they were smiling.

Severus turned to ask Eileen if she would like something, but she was currently showing Rita Skeeter what looked to him like baby pictures. Of him! It was all he could do not to grab the book from his mother’s grasp and run from the building. Severus thought he remembered that bearskin rug, it had tried to bite him when he was three. It had probably had enough of generations of toddlers widdling on it by then and had taken out its anger on Severus. He had been terrified of it he remembered. But he did not want to ask his mother what she wanted right now or he might end up being drawn into the conversation.

He stood up and stretched his legs, they were somewhat cramped, he had been sitting still for too long. From a distance he watched Harry stop his progress and freeze in horror as the boy spotted someone heading towards him and Draco. It was Molly Weasley.

She had called his name and was determinedly making her way towards him. She and Ginny must have not long arrived, because Severus certainly hadn’t seen her earlier. He began to make his way over to her, to intercept her, but it was slow progress there were a lot of people still here. Most of them sitting on the floor, without their wands no one had been able to produce chairs, so they made do with what they had, using wadded up robes as cushions and leaning against eachother.

Strangely enough Severus had not noticed before that people had obviously left seating for him and Eileen and for Harry. The chairs that he and Eileen sat on and the bench that Harry had commandeered, were not very comfortable. But they were an awful lot better than the floor. People moved aside for him now, and this time it didn’t seem to be from revulsion. They seemed to be exuding respect.

They patted him on the back as he passed by. Complete strangers greeted him, tried to grab his hand to thank him, Severus was astonished, he had been hated for so long, that kind words and praise sounded strange indeed to him. Thankfully he did not need to worry about that now, he needed to get to Harry, the boy looked stricken. He was still some distance away when Draco managed to intercept Molly, thereby allowing Harry to scuttle off in the direction of the food trolley.

Even from forty feet away he could hear her arguing with Draco. The weary witches and wizards that were gathered all around were watching the little interchange with sudden interest. Severus could not blame them. Being here for so long with no diversions was mind-numbingly dull.

However he did not wish for any more of Harry’s personal life to be aired in public. Severus realised that, quite a bit of the Chosen One’s family circumstances, not to mention his relationship with Draco had been revealed today 

But Molly could be quite an unstoppable force when she wanted to be, certainly one that was outwith Draco’s experience. Her voice was getting louder and louder as she pressed her case with the blond boy. “I need to get to him, you cannot stop me! I need to say sorry,” Draco, though it seemed, was still determinedly not wavering. However much Molly ranted.

“Molly, calm down,” Severus said finally reaching her side. Draco looked hugely grateful to see him. 

“I need to see Harry, Severus!” Molly wailed, “and this, _boy_ would not let me! All day I have been worried about him, I have needed to talk, say that I was sorry. He needs to know that I did not mean what I said last night.” Molly seemed quite distraught and Severus could see that it must have been a hard day for her, back at Grimmauld Place, just her and Ginny, with nothing to do but worry and brood.

But Harry had been so happy earlier, for the first time in a very long time. And he had had one heck of a day too. They all had come to that.

“Let him get something to eat Molly, we’ll be back soon home soon, and then you can talk to Harry, they can’t keep us here much longer, we have been here for hours.

“Draco, go and tell Harry what you want to eat too. Tell Harry that he can see Molly later.”

Severus had his hand in the small of her back now and he was trying to lead her away.

Draco looked a bit uncertain for a moment or two. He rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand again. He was probably a bit worried about venturing through the crowd after the comments and rough-housing that he had had to put up with earlier. But Severus didn’t think anyone would bother the boy now. Not after Harry’s very public demonstration of affection. Severus thought that there would not be anyone in this room who would want to piss off the Chosen One right now.

Draco nodded at Severus and turned to follow after Harry.

Harry had reached the trolley and was ordering. He wasn’t really looking at the witch who was serving though; he was looking back at them, his face was a mask of anxiety, he was biting his lip.

The witch who was serving caught Severus’ eye just then, she had a very self-satisfied smirk on her toadlike face. Suddenly Severus knew why she was familiar. He had seen that simpering smile before. Too many times before.

She was someone who hated Harry, someone who could mean him no good, someone who Severus had last heard of at St Mungo’s, well away from his nephew

The witch that was serving Harry was Dolores Umbridge.

Severus turned towards his nephew and ran

“HARRY!!!” he shouted 

At the same time another shout rang out.

A red-headed figure was also rushing towards Harry, but he was closer, he would get there first. Percy Weasley

“HARRY!! HARRY. NO!!!” Percy shouted

Harry’s face showed astonishment as Percy reached him and grabbed his arm to pull him away from Umbridge.

But it was too late

Harry had already touched the witch’s hand and the portkey that she must have been carrying, activated and whisked the three of them away.

 

 

* Brian Johnstone or *Jonners* was a British institution. He commentated on Cricket matches on bbc radio three for many years. Vernon Dursley would possibly have listened in, certainly to important matches. Brits and Australians have a friendly - ;-P - cricketing rivalry that goes back for more than a century. If you are interested go here to read more about "The Ashes" http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/cricket/the_ashes/history/2190854.stm 

 

.


	35. Chapter Thirty-five

Thanks to Claudia, Who probably co-authored this, so much help did she give me! I love you babe. 

A/N ~ there might just be a sort of cliffhanger at the end again! *runs away*

 

Thirty Five

 

 

Severus’ scream of rage echoed around the Ministry.

For a long time after today, his voice would be scratchy and sore. It would continue to have a croakiness that would never seem to go away, so powerful was the scream that was ripped from him, so visceral, so raw.

He reached the trolley just as it fell to the floor, scattering food and drink all over the place. He reached it just as Harry disappeared. 

Draco arrived at the same time and he was screaming too.

Several of the crowd around them started to panic. Other people were yelling and shouting. 

Harry was gone. Vanished.

Draco was on his knees, groping around in the wet gooey mess left by the overturned trolley as if searching for an invisible Harry, unable to believe that he had really gone. He was whimpering, sobbing, pleading under his breath.

For a moment Severus nearly despaired. 

But then he caught sight of Eileen. 

His mother was pale and shaking, she didn’t even seem to be able to stand on her own. Rita Skeeter, of all people was holding her up. Seeing her grandson disappear like that, was more than even Eileen could cope with.

Everyone seemed shocked and frightened. Even Scrimgeour, who was standing close by, looked sick to his stomach, helpless in the face of what had just happened

One minute everything had been so normal and the next minute. The very next minute. Harry had gone.

No one but Severus would be able to help Harry. The chilling realisation came on him all at once. No one seemed able to comprehend what had happened, they could not control their terror, not after everything else that had happened already today. Albus was gone. _Harry_ was gone. There was no one else left. It would have to be him

Pushing his own despair and fear aside Severus pulled himself together and stood.

It seemed like he was climbing a mountain. The simple feat of standing up from his prone position on the floor, where he had fallen, collapsing in shock was an almost impossible task, insurmountable. The horrible blow of Harry’s disappearance came close to destroying him. But he would not give up, he could not give up

He dragged himself to his feet and he stood with his head held high. One calm man amongst hundreds of terrified, panicking people

“Be quiet!” he ordered, he did not have to shout or even raise his voice. Those around him obeyed him instantly and like a ripple effect it spread until there was complete and utter silence

He looked around to see that almost every eye in the Atrium was fixed on him, waiting to make everything better.

Everyone seemed frozen as if they were under a spell in a perverted fairy tale

Even Kingsley and that most experienced Auror of them all Mad-Eye Moody. They had seen the hope of the wizarding world snatched away before their eyes. For Eileen it was a hundred times worse she had collapsed in on herself and looked like she did before Harry had produced such a miraculous cure for her cancer. Draco was still sitting by the remains of the trolley, silent sobs racking his thin frame.

Sometime in the last few moments Bill and Arthur had worked their way through the crowd.

“Severus?” Arthur asked, concern colouring his words. Severus realised that he must have been worried for Percy too. Arthur’s son had disappeared in front of hundreds of people too. To suffer an as yet unknown fate

Severus had a pretty good idea what had happened though.

“Voldemort has taken Harry.” Severus said flatly. He ignored the gasps from members of the crowd as he said the dreaded name.

“It was a trap, Arthur. This whole day has been a trap.”

“Harry was safe with us at home. Hell he was safer in the graveyard. Voldemort wanted to get to Harry so he set a trap. This was never about Tonks, or the people at the funeral. Oh, of course if more people had died that would have delighted him. But that wasn’t what he was after; he didn’t do it for that.

“The graveyard was packed with Aurors so, he couldn’t attack openly, there were too many able wizards who would have fought him. And if they had attacked when the Dementors were there he could not have protected his own. The Dementors could have Kissed them too, there would have been no way for them to differentiate between his forces and ours.”

“He wanted Harry somewhere where he could get to him.” Severus could see it all so clearly now and he was kicking himself for not seeing it earlier. 

“This was a set up.” 

Severus turned and pointed at Scrimgeour. The man cringed away from his accuser.

“Your Ministry is rotten, Scrimgeour. There are spies here, followers of Voldemort 

"The witch that took Harry was Dolores Umbridge. Albus and I thought that she might be one of his supporters. We found out just recently that he had stopped marking his supporters, makes it easier to spy that way. There is no mark to give you away.

“How come she was here? Did someone let her in, did someone help her; she didn’t do this on her own. She had support. None of us have our wands; we had no way to fight back we still have no way to fight back.”

He left the last words unsaid, but he was sure people heard them anyway. _Harry has no way to fight back and neither does Percy_. Of course Harry didn’t need his wand really did he? But the people gathered here were not to know that. Just the few of them in the inner circle had any idea how strong Harry had become. Severus only hoped it was enough.

“Who arranged for the wands to be removed?” Severus continued, “I shall want to speak to whoever authorised that.”

Severus stared around him; and one of the Aurors guarding the wand weighing procedure started to back away at Severus’ words. 

“I didn’t know,” Scrimgeour was whispering, “I didn’t know! Dolores was, she came highly recommended, I never thought…”

A number of people were glaring at Scrimgeour now.

Severus ignored him

“It was well planned, clever. They waited until we were tired, bored because nothing was happening. Until we let our guard down.” 

“She couldn’t have done this alone. Her accomplices will still be here.”

He stopped speaking for a moment and looked around the room. Severus knew what the involuntary giveaways were, the little tell tales that people couldn’t hide. The ones that gave a liar away. He had had to learn to hide them himself after all hadn’t he?

The Auror carefully moving away from the collected wands seemed to Severus to be suspicious, another standing by the door, was licking his lips in a nervous manner and blinking far to much for Severus’ liking. Those were reflex actions that were very hard to control or disguise

He and Moody had come to an understanding in the graveyard hadn’t they? They knew eachother well enough from fighting together over the years. The old Auror may not have trusted him before, but he did now didn’t he? Well as far as Mad-Eye trusted anyone. Severus looked directly at Moody, trying to silently communicate where his suspicions lay. His dark eye’s met Moody’s good eye and he let his gaze fall first on one suspect and then the other. Moody almost smiled and seconds later the screams broke out again as the two protesting Aurors were wrestled to the floor by Moody’s men and marched away for interrogation.

“SILENCE!!!” Severus roared

This time he looked at Kingsley, hoping that he, like Moody would pick up his unspoken cues. .

“Do not move until I tell you,” Severus continued to address the gathered throng. “Momentarily you will get your wands back and you can go home if you choose to.”

Kingsley nodded, obviously understanding what it was that Severus wanted him to do: order the redistribution of the wands and finally begin to send people home.

“I am asking for your help.” Severus continued.

“Voldemort has got Harry and he is going to hurt him. My nephew has been fighting this evil in our midst since he was a baby, and right now he needs our help. He will not get free by himself 

“I think I know where they will be holding him, him and the innocent man who was taken with him.”

Molly, who had come up behind Severus, let out a sob. But Severus felt little sympathy for her. She had wanted to keep her children safe at Harry’s expense had she? Well it looked like Voldemort had different ideas. May be she would realise now that there was no safe place in this war. He was furious with Molly for her actions. If she had just let things be, Harry would not have been so distracted. Would not have rushed away, would not have been alone for her to snatch. They might even have recognised her, Harry or Draco.

He could not bring himself to even look at her right at that moment

“We need Harry, without him we are all doomed, Severus carried on speaking to a room that was completely hushed, focussed on his every word.

“We need you. As many of you as are willing to help us. Join me if you can.”

His eyes met Eileen’s despairing gaze and held it for a moment. Making her a silent promise.

“Come with me if you wish to. I am going to find Harry and I am bringing him home.”

 

 

When Harry felt that tell tale tug at his naval his first thought was “Fucking hell, not again!!!

His second thought was to wonder who had grabbed him this time.

As they whirled to their destination, he and his two companions. Harry made his decision. It wasn’t Percy; Percy had tried to help him. Harry wasn’t sure who it was, who had grabbed him but he knew that it must have been the witch, the one selling food. Of course she wasn’t truly selling food, she must have been after him, whoever she was. If indeed she was really female!

Thinking was really hard while going through the maelstrom that was portkey travel, but Harry struggled on anyway. He couldn’t see who the witch was but as far as Harry was concerned whoever she was he had had a bloody awful day and the bitch was going down.

Severus had been teaching him defense spells and basic Muggle self defence. His uncle had decided that Harry could use all the help he could get and that combined sixteen years of close proximity to Dudley Dursley, had turned Harry into quite a scrapper he was not going to go down easily. Not this time.

He concentrated hard and landed on his feet. Percy crashed heavily to the floor and the woman who had grabbed him also stumbled a little, Harry used that weakness to his advantage. He brought his elbow up sharply and heard something crack behind him and what sounded like a body hitting the floor. He heard a muffled cry behind him, he still didn't know who had brought him here but he thought he had broken her nose.

She yelped in pain again and Harry took great satisfaction in the sound. But it didn’t really matter after all because there was no way he was getting out of this one.

A cold, high voice which welcomed him to his destination made that a certainty didn’t it?

“Hello Mr Potter, how good of you to join us. I have been awaiting your presence before I began the evening’s entertainment.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment.

It was less than twenty-four hours since he had to face the snake-faced bastard he thought to himself. He had had enough.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Tom, do give it a rest!” he snarled. He barely registered the muffled gasps that he managed to elicit from the assembled Death Eaters.

Harry had no idea where the portkey had brought him this time, except that wherever it was it was far more gracious and stylish than the graveyard.

They were in a large room with huge windows, which seemed to overlook gardens. Not that he could really see clearly because there were too many Death Eaters in the way.

Harry’s heart sank. It didn’t matter how good at scrapping he was, or how good at defense. He was hopelessly out-numbered, they didn’t stand a chance.

“This is getting really bloody _old_ you know? Have you not any thing better to do with your fucking time except come after me? Get a fucking life,”

Voldemort looked stunned. Well at least Harry thought he looked stunned. It was after all hard to tell what his expression was since his regeneration.

“YOU WILL SHOW ME RESPECT BOY!!” Voldemort bellowed

“Oh fuck off!” Harry replied belligerently. He was tired, he was hungry and he wanted to be anywhere other than here, but preferably somewhere where he could snog Draco.

The Death Eaters gasped again.

Someone nudged Harry’s foot.

It was Percy.

“Harry don’t antagonise him,” Percy whispered.

The older boy seemed to be trying to avoid being noticed, Harry thought, but speaking up was not very wise as he had just succeeded in drawing Voldemort’s attention onto himself.

“Oh look,” Voldemort sneered it’s a Weasley, a blood traitor. What are you doing here little traitor? Come along for the ride did you?”

Percy whimpered and Voldemort laughed raising Harry’s ire even further.

“You really are an overgrown bully, aren’t you?” Harry hissed. “You get your jollies picking on others, you sadistic sod!”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed.

“If you do not show me some respect boy, then I will have to make you.

“ _Crucio_.”

Harry felt the pain hit him. For several long minutes he could do nothing but allow himself to be subsumed by wave after wave of white-hot agony.

When it stopped, he found that his mouth was flooded with blood; he must have bitten his own tongue during his convulsions.

He lay there staring up at the ceiling. Harry thought it was hideous. Far too much fancy plasterwork in his opinion

“Feeling anymore respectful now Harry?” Voldemort purred

“Nope!” Harry replied, getting a perverse satisfaction out of annoying the other wizard, “and did you realise that you have a horrible ceiling?”

Voldemort roared!

“RESPECT ME!!!”

Harry had rolled onto his stomach, every single part of him felt like it had been fed into a mincer.

“I am going to kill you.” Voldemort was screaming. “I will torture you until you beg for the sweet relief that death can give you!”

Harry ought to have been scared. He truly should have been, but instead he found that he was just irritated. If this was to be the end then so-be-it. He didn’t want to die, he truly didn’t, not when he had so much to live for. But he had had enough.

He had been scared earlier at the graveyard, and the night before. Not for himself but for those he loved. But they weren’t here were they? It was just him and Percy 

He pushed himself into a sitting position. “ Do you have any idea how boring you are?” He asked as scathingly as he could manage with his mouth full of blood.

“Look, I tell you what, let Percy go and I’ll come quietly. I’ll not keep calling you a wanker and you can pretend that you are of some fucking use to anybo…...”

His last word was broken off as Voldemort hit him with another Crucio.

This time he was under for longer.

He was trying to find his magic, but it seemed elusive right now. He couldn’t seem to get a firm hold on it. Perhaps if he stalled Voldemort maybe, he would be able to grasp it.

Then he couldn’t think of anything but the excruciating pain that was subsuming him.

This time when he stopped writhing, Percy was kneeling beside him and crying.

“Please stop it!” he was sobbing, “Please don’t hurt him anymore!”

“S’alrigh’ Perc,” Harry drawled, “He won’ sho mercy, don’ beg ‘im, keep yur dign’y!” there was more blood in his mouth now and he was choking a little bit.

He felt something, like a stirring of his magic only it was very faint, like an echo. And it was just out of reach.

When the hateful spell hit him again Harry felt like every separate part of him was alive with agony.

He thought he was screaming, but he couldn’t tell anymore.

This time it felt like the pain went on for a thousand years

He wasn’t listening to what Voldemort was saying, It hurt to much to concentrate. Like someone had mushed his brains up and they had turned to goo. There was something about keeping Percy alive as a witness, and the fun they would have with him before sending him back to his family.

That sounded wrong to Harry. He didn’t think that Voldemort’s idea of fun was very nice at all and he was sure that Percy wouldn’t enjoy it.

Harry felt like he had been taken to pieces and put together incorrectly.

He felt like he could not move.

But he did, he forced himself out of his stupor

“You zink, your zo clever, tortring two unarmed men!” Harry slurred, he was still on his stomach, but he managed to drag his head up somehow.

“Fucking wankery coward!”

The bellow that Voldemort let out this time sounded completely unhinged.

Harry peered up at him. He thought there was blood in his eyes. Everything seemed to have a red shimmer to it? Was that the pain he wondered

Then Harry found his magic. “Shit,” he thought. “It’s very weak.” But this time when Voldemort cursed him Harry saw the hex coming and somehow he managed to deflect it.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed

The evil wizard opened his mouth to say something else but whatever it was, was lost because at that moment a door somewhere behind Harry burst open and Harry heard someone shout

“The Order of the Phoenix are here are here, they are attacking. They’re getting though the wards.”

“Fool!” Voldemort shouted, “They cannot get through the wards, they are impregnable!”

“Master,” the man cringed. “Please Master, they have the young Malfoy with them. The wards are letting them through.”

“Good on you Draco, you show old snakeface.” Harry whispered to himself, right before he slipped into darkness and oblivion.


	36. Chapter Thirty- six

A/N Sorry guys RL has been v busy today, so did not get todays chapter finished and sent off to be betaed. Will do that tomorrow though and post as soon as I get it back.

Thamks for all the kind reviews and many, many thanks to Claudia, who has helped so much in the last few weeks.

 

Thirty six

Coming out of the darkness was agony. Harry liked the darkness, it didn’t hurt.

He fought returning to consciousness as hard as he could. But bloody Percy Weasley just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Harry could hear him calling him. Shaking him. Crying all over him. As much as he might like to, Harry just couldn’t ignore Percy’s distress. He wondered if Ron would mind if Harry slapped his least favourite brother. He probably wouldn’t, but Harry couldn’t quite seem to make his arm work properly.

“Wha’ is it?” Harry muttered, “pleas g’way Percy!”

“Oh Harry.” Percy sobbed, “you’re alive. Oh thank Merlin! Thank Merlin!”

“Nope, not ‘live definitely not ‘live. Dead as a doornail me!” Harry heard himself mutter, God! He must be feeling like shite, he was rambling.

He cracked open one eye. To see Percy staring down at him. His eyes were large and wet and his freckles were standing out starkly against his pale, greenish, white skin.

Harry’s heart clenched. He couldn’t help it; he obviously had a weakness for Weasleys. Percy had Ginny’s eyes and Ron’s hair and he couldn’t just ignore him however attractive unconsciousness might be right now. Not when the other boy crying and looking so desperate.

He opened his other eye.

“Oh Harry, I thought he’d killed you.” Percy’s voice was trembling, “the last time he kept you under for ages! Oh Harry, your screams!” Percy’s voice caught, it seemed that he could not go on.

Harry felt a bit got at.

“Well of course I screamed,” he said defensively, “being _Crucioed_ hurts!”

Percy was staring at him with his mouth open.

“It hurts?” he said, “looked like it was a lot worse than that to me. It looked like total agony!”

“Yeah, well it’s no fucking walk in the park,” Harry said, trying to push himself into a sitting position and failing miserably. “But I’ll live. At least,” he amended, “I’ll live until he starts on me again.”

Percy seemed horrified at Harry’s attitude, although whether he was most anxious about the fact that Voldie might start on him again, or if it was Harry’s swearing that was bothering him most, Harry couldn’t tell.

“How can you be so casual about it? He nearly killed you. You could have died Harry. He tortured you until you were unconscious!”

Oh so it _was_ the torturing that was bothering him. That made Harry feel a bit warmer toward Percy. He almost smiled but his lips didn’t seem to be working properly. Maybe that explained why his speech was still coming out a little slurred.

“Yeah Perce, I was there, y’know?” Harry said, pushing his hands a bit further away, in the hope that it might make it easier to help himself up. He was shaking so fucking much that he couldn’t seem to get control of his limbs. Even worse, he couldn’t seem to access much of his magic. It felt like it was blocked somehow.

Finally he rolled over. He was on a cold damp floor; it looked like stone to him. Wherever they were it was cold and quite dark. There was light trickling in from a high window. A small dirty window. With bars on it “So fucking clichéd!” he muttered to himself. 

From this position he could indeed push himself up a bit more easily.

“What’s going on outside?” He asked, “I take it that there is a battle or something going on? Voldie’s lot must be otherwise engaged, or we’d be dead by now.”

Finally he whispered, “D’you know if they are okay, if Draco’s okay?” Harry had no doubt that his uncle would be there too. But Harry was not particularly worried about Severus; he was one of the strongest wizards that Harry knew after all, but Draco? He wasn’t a fighter really was he? And Harry wasn’t there to protect him right now; he really hoped that Draco would be okay

“They’re fighting.” Percy said. “It has been going on for 45 minutes or so. That’s how long you were unconscious.

“We can’t see what is happening from here, I’ve tried. But the window is too high, all I can see are flashes of light in the distance.”

Percy suddenly seemed to realise what Harry was trying to do and rushed to assist him.

He pulled Harry to a seated position and rested him against his own body. He was quite warm, Harry thought, and much more comfortable than the floor.

Harry was puzzled. Why was Percy helping him? It didn’t seem right somehow. He thought that Percy was firmly in the ‘hate Harry Potter’ camp.

God, Percy hadn’t suddenly discovered that they were related as well had he? Harry didn’t think that he could stand finding any more long lost relatives right now. Even if they did happen to also be related to Ron, who was as close to a brother as Harry would ever get.

“Oh fuck!” he thought, Molly Weasley would probably hate him even more now as somehow, he had dragged Percy into mortal danger.

“Sorry that you’re here Percy! Sorry about everything.” he said, looking up at the red-head. He had really liked Percy in first and second year. Ron’s older brother had seemed to really care about his little sister and his brothers, despite the fact that he obviously found the, all extremely annoying. Was it fourth or fifth year that Percy had started to hate him? Harry couldn’t really remember now.

Percy was crying again.

“I’m the one that should be sorry Harry. I didn’t believe you and I should have done. I just thought you were trying to get attention. That you would drag Ron into your dangerous games. 

“I thought that you had gone mad. That you would get my baby brother hurt. I didn’t want to believe that _He_ was back.”

Percy was hugging him tightly and sobbing into Harry’s hair. Harry tried patting him, but he couldn’t seem to control his hands. They still shook too much.

“You were right Percy,” Harry said sadly. “I did get him hurt.” He was thinking of the brains at the Ministry, of Ron’s time in the forest when they had barely escaped Aragog and of the giant chess set in first year.

“No,” Percy’s voice was muffled, “Not you. _He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named_ did that. Not you.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue. But couldn’t think what to say. His head hurt too. It was like his thoughts were scrambled.

He concentrated on looking around the room in which they seemed to be trapped. It was small and built of stone and there was absolutely nothing in it. Apart from the high window there was just a depressingly solid wooden door.

He sank back against Percy and just listened to him talk. He would just rest for a while he thought.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” Percy said, “because he is so evil, so awful. I didn’t want my family to be in danger, so I blamed you. That was so much easier after all. If you were a spoiled, attention seeking brat, then none of it was true and there was hope for us all. 

“But you weren’t lying, and my family believed you and turned against me and they were right to do so. And even then I still wouldn’t believe you.

“And then little things got me wondering. What was really happening? Papers went missing in the Ministry after Fudge was removed. Then Stan Shunpike was arrested. I knew Stan. I used to travel by Knight Bus to stay with Penelope and he was always there. He’s a nice guy. He’s not a Death Eater Harry.” Harry wanted to say that he thought that was pretty fucking obvious, but Percy was still speaking. “After Amelia Bones was killed, they started appointing people to jobs that seemed above their capabilities.” Percy laughed ominously. “Not that they haven’t always done that, but this was so much more _obvious._ There were late meetings held in secret. Dolores Umbridge came back. 

“She’d been in St Mungo’s for months, but when she got back things were worse. Scrimgeour didn’t fight her on anything; he seemed frightened of her He did whatever she said. One day I sneaked into her office. She hates you Harry, she has a drawer full of photos of you that have all been defaced. . So I watched them. I watched her. Dad was suspect; there are a lot of people at the Ministry who don’t like Dad. He has always made it clear which side he was on and they were always careful to hide things from him. Our rift was common knowledge, so I exploited it. But some of the things that she said Harry, some of the hatred she spouted about werewolves, or anyone related to magical creatures in any way.”

Percy shuddered.

“She was the one who had the portkey Harry.” 

Harry shuddered that time, “fucking bitch,” he murmured, “if I ever get my hands on her!” He was just glad that he had managed to hit her so hard. He hoped he had caused a permanent disfigurement. Not that anyone would notice!

“When I saw her, coming towards you,” Percy was saying quietly, “I had to try to stop her, I knew she wanted to hurt you Harry.”

Whilst Percy had been talking Harry had tried to concentrate on his magic. He could feel it, but it was wispy, like Eileen’s had been before he’d fixed it. He chased it with his mind and just managed to grasp it. It was weak and fragmented but he needed it. He willed it to come back and thought he felt it respond a little. He felt a bit stronger. He doubted that he could do a spell, but he was feeling less weak. He felt like light was flowing through his veins. Making him stronger

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Percy said, so softly that it was almost like a shadow of speech “I really fucked up this time didn’t I?”

Harry looked up at him, this brother of Ron’s. Who was trying so hard. Percy was obviously terrified, but he was doing his best to help.

“Not your fault.” Harry said. “Not mine either. It is all his doing you know? All his. He is evil and twisted and spiteful. He can’t bear to think of anyone being happy. He has to destroy and kill.”

“But we are going to die Harry.” Percy whispered, “and I don’t want to die. Not till I’ve said sorry, not till I’ve seen my Mum again.” His voice hitched and he began to cry.

“Percy,” Harry said, “stop crying. We have to get out of here mate, or we really will die.”

He closed his eyes again, just for a minute and then let out a sigh.

“Help me up?” Harry said.

Percy had stopped crying but he was looking at Harry in astonishment.

“But you should be in bed, recovering.”

“God! He was so fucking naïve,” Harry thought 

“Well, Percy,” he said, “I don’t see any beds in here do you? And I don’t think that Voldie is about to produce one for me. So if I want somewhere nice and comfy where I can recover, then I am going to have to get out of here. Now help me up!”

Percy looked at him as if he were mad. But he did as he was asked. He put his hands under Harry’s arms and hauled him to his feet.

Harry felt like he had been thrown into a cement mixer. The room was churning and there was a roaring noise in his ears.

He was almost sick. He felt bile rising in his throat, burning. But Harry hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before so there wasn’t anything to throw up.

He leaned heavily on Percy for a moment or two, breathing deeply, and pulled himself up till he was standing, almost on his own.

Harry felt wobbly, his knees were like rubber. But he was still on his feet.

“Have you tried the door yet?” Harry asked. 

“It’s solid and very strong,” Percy replied. “Magic doesn’t work either. Not that I am much good at wandless spells anyway. There is a dampener on magic, tied into the wards I think. That’s what Umbridge said when she brought us down here. Your sore ribs’ll be down to her. She kicked you really hard Harry.

Percy looked apologetic. As if it was his fault. Harry thought that he would do a lot more to that evil witch than kick her in the ribs if he caught up with her.

So there was a dampener on magic? That explained why his felt so fuzzy. But it didn’t explain why it was coming back. 

He looked over at the door, thinking that maybe he could try an _Alohomora_?

But then the door opened

Harry braced himself for battle. He tried to ensure that Percy was behind him. He hadn’t done a very good job of protecting him up until now Harry thought, not that he was about to do much better this time, but he did feel stronger. Just a bit.

Standing in the doorway was Peter Pettigrew. 

Harry heard himself growl. Here was someone whose throat he would love to rip out. If only he had enough magic to transform right now, which he most certainly did not.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snarled.

Pettigrew flinched.

“Harry,” he said, in what Harry assumed was meant to be a winning way. “Don’t be like that. I’m here to help you. What would your parents say about your manners?”

“I have no fucking idea, considering I never met them!” Harry snapped back, infuriated that Pettigrew dared even to mention his parents.

Pettigrew, for some peculiar reason looked wounded. Harry wished that he had his magic back. Then he would give the bastard something to really make him look wounded about..

Perhaps deciding that Percy would be more reasonable, Pettigrew addressed him instead.

“I owe him a life debt.” he said, gesturing with his head in Harry’s direction, “It’s chaos out there at the moment and they’ll never know it was me that let you go.

“Turn right when you leave the room, follow the corridor to the end, then turn left, right and left again. Go up some steps and that’ll take you outside.”

He looked directly at Harry then. Harry was still distinctly wobbly and though his magic did seem to be coming back quite strongly, it still wasn’t strong enough to curse Pettigrew which Harry really, really wanted to.

“We are even now Harry,” he said. For a moment his face showed an echo of deep sadness and then he left so quickly that he almost seemed to melt away

“Harry, do you think it’s a trap?” Percy was asking him, he sounded terrified, his eyes were wide, frightened. For the second time that day Harry felt old.

“I have no fucking idea Percy,” he answered. “But he does owe me a life debt, so chances are he is telling the truth. And at this point I don’t think we have a lot to lose. I think we should go for it. Do you think you could help me walk?”

Percy sniffed. “Of course I will help you Harry,” he said stuffily. “But I do think you should stop swearing. It is very vulgar you know?”

Harry couldn’t help himself, leaning his weight against Percy as they made their way slowly towards the open door he began to giggle hysterically.

 

 

When the order arrived at Malfoy Manor it was already dark. It had taken them nearly an hour to get prepared, to get everyone here. Draco had had to key them all separately into the wards. When Voldemort took over the manor, Narcissa had just had to accept Voldemort and because the Death Eaters wore his mark they could do magic too. But the wards at the Manor were fiendish and had been set by Lucius. They dampened or eradicated the magic of anyone who was not given express permission to perform magic on the grounds or in the Manor itself so Draco had had to key each of the volunteers to the wards individually. Although these were the same people who had maligned him earlier, somehow, Draco had, with grace and determination taken the hands of each one of the individuals who were hoping to help Harry and whisper the necessary words under his breath.

 

Severus wondered how Draco was taking it, seeing his old home. The place looked a mess. Severus had been here many times in the past. If the shock of the devastation was bad enough for him, how must Draco be taking it? There was rubble everywhere, several windows had been broken and the rose garden was gone, the lawns were rutted and muddied and someone had cut the topiary trees into grotesque and obscene shapes.

But Draco’s face betrayed nothing, it was pale yet resolute.

He had behaved so bravely tonight and Severus felt so proud of him. Apart from his mini breakdown when Harry had vanished that was. Of course, Severus too had been close to his own breakdown at that particular moment, so he was hardly going to blame the boy for that. But Draco had, it seemed, finally grown up.

He had been the first person to answer Severus’ impassioned plea at the Ministry.

He had simply stood, still covered in debris from the trolley, and said firmly, “I’ll go. I want to help Harry. I want to bring him home.”

Within seconds over one-hundred and forty people had offered to come. All of the Weasley’s had insisted that they come along, including Molly a resolute look on her face. She would still not let Ginny come with them. Ginny had been dispatched back to Grimmauld Place to look after Eileen. Severus mother had wanted to come too and it had taken him several long tense moments to argue her out of the idea. He could not bear to lose her and he convinced her that Harry would feel the same way. Voldemort had already had Harry for fifteen minutes by then and Severus was feeling quite frantic.

Once Eileen had understood that, she had gone without a fight. But her eyes had been damp with tears when she held her son close and whispered so that only Severus could hear her. “Bring him home, love! Please bring him home.”

One after another the volunteers apparated on to the ruined lawn, until the grounds swarmed with them all. A number of those present were seasoned Aurors, with years of battle experience behind them. Some were familiar faces, people who knew Harry such as Arthur, and Tom from the Leaky Cauldron. Students of Hogwarts, still children in Severus’ eyes, but refusing to be left behind and complete strangers, wizards that Severus had never seen before but who were ready to fight. Some seemed resolute like Molly was; they knew what they were facing. Others were clearly frightened, staying close by companions, holding on to each other for safety’s sake, for comfort or courage. 

Severus was just praying to those Gods, whoever they were, who had helped him in the last day or so that Harry was still alive. He knew full well what Voldemort could do to someone in the amount of time that Harry had been missing. But he was determined not to think about that.

He would be alright, somehow, Harry would be alright. Severus had stopped deluding himself long ago. He loved his nephew. Possibly more than even Molly loved her chicks because he only had Harry as his surrogate flesh and blood child. He knew without a doubt that he could not have loved any son of his own more than he loved Harry. He couldn’t imagine his life without Harry around now. He had been the focus for so many of Severus’ deepest emotions over the past six years. If Severus hadn’t been able to come on this mission he might well have fallen apart by now. Even when he had hated Harry he couldn’t help but admire his apparent indestructibility. Harry would not die here tonight, Severus would not let him. Somehow they would get him out and take him home 

The ruined gardens seemed mysterious in the moonlight and somewhere far off in the distance an owl hooted. Severus deployed people as best he could, behind piles of rubble, hidden in bushes, behind a wall that still stood. For a moment nothing happened. The night stayed quiet and still, then without warning a hoard of dark figures started to pour from the house and the battle of Malfoy Manor had begun.


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

A/N - This chapter is nearly twice as long as usual! But I am off on holiday tomorrow, so I thought you deserved a treat. I will have my laptop with me so I will still be updating the story. I plan to finish it before Deathly Hallows comes out. But my updating will be fairly erratic for the next two weeks.

Thanks Claudia for making sense of my ramblings! ~ Lucie

 

Thirty seven

Harry and Percy staggered along the corridor. There was no real light to help guide them, but the occasional sliver that escaped from underneath one of the doors was just enough to outline the passage that they were in.

Harry wasn’t giggling now, he was struggling to walk. Even leaning against Percy as he was they weren’t getting very far.

Harry’s magic was just too weak; it wasn’t healing him as fast as he needed it too. 

Percy kept saying that he couldn’t believe how well Harry could use magic, how well he seemed to be doing. He had witnessed what _“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”_ had done to Harry and by rights Harry ought to be dead or insane.

Harry thought he probably was insane, and right now he didn’t feel far off death either. He also had this tremendous feeling urge to smack Percy really, really hard. Had he always been this annoying? Harry wondered

They were making very slow progress. Harry couldn’t seem to lift his feet properly; and so he was sort of shuffling along. Then all at once he caught his toe on a slightly raised paving stone and fell crashing to the ground, taking Percy with him, the other boy fell too, he had been holding so tightly onto Harry that he did not have a chance to save himself.

Harry couldn’t save himself. He hit the ground hard and then Percy landed on top of him. It _hurt_ so fucking much that Harry let out a string of very colourful expletives. 

Percy sat up and Harry groaned and carefully rolled onto his back and started another string of the expressive words.

“Fucking, shitting, buggery, sodding, bastard stone fucking floors, stupid shitty wankery….”

“Please Harry!” Percy wailed in apparent distress, “please, stop saying those things.”

Harry didn’t feel like laughing this time.

He was lying on the fucking floor, having jarred all his bones, having re-awakened all the really sore bits that had just about faded to a nice dull agony and Percy was moaning at Harry about swearing?

Harry was just about to tell Percy what he could do with his prissy attitude when they heard a voice.

“Hello? Who’s there? Can you help us? Please help us?”

Harry sat up then.

Percy had opened his mouth to say something. Harry could just about see him in the gloom. But Harry raised a hand to forestall him.

“Where are you?” he asked.

The woman, because it sounded like a woman, let out a sound which Harry thought was probably a sob.

“Here, we are just here. Please help us, please!”

Harry and Percy had fallen just a couple of feet away from a heavy wooden door and the voice was coming from in there. Harry crawled over.

He knelt beside the door for a moment and wondered what the heck he was going to say.

“Er….move away from the door,” he finally said, “we are going to try to open it. Perce,” he continued, “come here.”

Percy scuttled over

“Harry we have to get out of here!” He hissed, sounding urgent. “Yeah, whatever!” Harry answered dismissively. There was no way he was just going to abandon these people to whatever fate Voldemort had in store for them. “Can you help me up?”

Percy muttered something under his breath, something about, ‘annoying suicidal brats,’ and Harry nearly laughed. For a moment it was almost like being back at the Burrow arguing about thick-bottomed cauldrons.

Instead he just shushed Percy and leaned his head against the door for a second whilst he pondered what to do.

He tried feeling around with his hands to see if there was a way to open the door. There seemed to be no handle or lock. He could try a spell, it might work. Harry thought that perhaps just a simple opening spell would be enough. This was a cellar, wasn’t it? Whoever’s house this was may not have bothered with complicated spells down here, especially if some sort of dampening wards had been placed on the house wherever it was. He didn’t think that he could manage silent magic as well as wandless magic so he just went for the wandless.

He stood up tall, braced himself against the door and whispered “ _Alohomora_ ”

Harry’s first thought when the door swung open and he crashed to the floor he crashed to the floor again, was that leaning against a door that you had just spelled open was perhaps not the wisest thing to do. It was at times like this that he really missed Hermione. Then he shuddered, because he really didn’t want Hermione to be here, in danger. He wanted her safe; he wanted all his friends to be safe.

When Harry looked up, two people were staring down at him.

They were filthy, completely covered in dirt from head to toe. The woman’s hair was all over the place, wild and wiry as if it had not been brushed for months. Her cheeks were hollow; like she’d hadn’t been fed properly for weeks and her skin was pale and papery. The man was partially hidden in the shadows, but there was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar.

Then all at once he knew. “Mr Ollivander?” Harry said in astonishment.

 

 

Spell light was flashing back and forth in the darkness; the battle had been raging on for what seemed like hours. It seemed to Severus that all of Voldemort’s Death Eaters must be here tonight; they were indeed quite formidable when assembled like this.

Severus, Kingsley and Moody had set up a command and hospital post on the other side of the Ha- ha*. Hermione, Luna and Ron Weasley were there right now, under the command of Poppy Pomfrey. They were helping those who had been wounded by spells. There were indeed some nasty spells flying around. They mostly seemed to be variations of cutting curses. But one man had had an arm hexed off and another seemed to be totally blind. The unguent that Severus and Eileen had made, using samples from Harry’s animagus form seemed to be helping enormously with the healing process. But some spells were much more complicated and it seemed that Neville seemed had been given the task of apparating those most injured to St Mungo’s.

Currently Severus was working his way back to the demolished wall near the ruined rose garden. He didn’t want to leave Draco on his own for too long. Draco had refused to help the others with hospital duty and had opted to help Kingsley instead, citing the fact that he knew the grounds better than anyone else and was therefore best suited in the front line. But Kingsley was currently delivering a wounded Auror to the hospital post and so Draco would have no-one to defend him right now.

Severus had managed to defeat Tiberius Snodgrass, a particularly nasty piece of work, who loved torturing Muggles. He had taken him back to the command post and left him with Robbie Bones. Captured Death Eaters were being apparated back to the Ministry where they would undergo a severe grilling later on.

From what Severus could see they seemed to have decimated Voldemort’s ranks as a number of the Dark Lord’s favourites were either dead or in custody. This meant, of course, that those who were left seemed to be fighting with especial ferocity.

Severus dodged a spell, that had missed its target and ducked behind a large Azalea, which looked as though it might not recover from whatever it had had done to it. Severus was just glad that Narcissa was not here to see the destruction of her beautiful garden. 

He was still desperately worried about Harry; they had been fighting for what seemed like hours and they had made no real progress. They had certainly killed or captured  
a significant number of Death Eaters, but they were no nearer to finding Harry than they had been when they first arrived. He wondered if there were any way of getting closer to the house, closer to Harry and then just in front of him he heard a familiar voice scream.

 

 

Percy had helped Harry up again. 

He was staring in what appeared to be absolute astonishment at the woman with wild hair.

“Mmmadam _Bones_?" he stuttered incredulously

Harry stared too. “I thought you were dead,” he said, ignoring Percy’s wince, presumably at Harry’s lack of manners. .

“So did I Mr Potter, so did I. But as you can see I am not. Mr Ollivander and I have been kept in this cellar for a very long time. For some reason “ _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ ” is keen to keep us here with him. Surprisingly neither of us have been even tortured. He has hurt you though, hasn’t he child?”

Harry’s chest felt tight. He didn’t know what to do when people gave him sympathy. He was slowly learning to accept it from Eileen and Severus to a certain extent, but from people who were almost strangers, that was hard!

He was leaning against Percy, opening the door had left him very weak indeed, but finally his legs gave out and he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Luckily Percy was strong and didn’t let him fall. Madam Bones rushed forward and took his other arm. “Oh my dear, we must get you sitting down!” she said

“But Madam Bones, we have to get out of here, they could be back at any moment!” Percy sounded quite frantic. “They can’t catch us they’ll kill him! And….and…Oh Circe, the things that they said they would do to me!”

“We have no choice, Mr Weasley,” Amelia Bones said, clearly demonstrating that she was not going to make the mistakes that Fudge always did with Percy’s name. “Mr Ollivander and I are very weak. There is no way that we could manage to get two badly injured men out of here! We will just have to wait and hope for rescue.”

“But I’m not injured,” Percy said, puzzled.

“No, I can see that you are not, unfortunately our fellow house guest is.” As she spoke, Amelia Bones moved to one side revealing a figure tucked away in the corner. He was slumped on what seemed to be a thin pile of worn blankets. He was obviously in a great deal of pain. His face was drawn and very pale. He was shaking even harder than Harry and curled in a foetal position, paying very little attention to what was going on around him. He was whimpering quietly to himself. 

Harry would have known him anywhere. Even if he had not seen a younger version of those distinctive features only hours before, he would still have recognised him by that unusual shade of white blond hair, clearly noticeable even in the gloom. The man in the corner was Lucius Malfoy.

 

 

 

Severus reached Draco in no time at all. He found that he did not care about the hexes that were flying all around him, a simple _Protego,_ seemed more than enough to deflect the worst of them. He just wanted to save Draco. The boy was yet another child of whom he had become inordinately fond. 

Someone in Death Eater robes was standing over the boy and Draco’s arm was bleeding profusely where he was suffering from the effects of a cutting hex.

“You are just as weak as your father, you’re pathetic! Call yourself a pureblood!” Whoever it was who was hexing Draco she was obviously getting a great deal of pleasure from insulting as well as hurting him.

“I suggest you leave the boy alone.” Severus said coldly. He had been going to say something about ‘picking on someone your own size,’ but had Draco been standing hewould have towered over the woman, whoever she was, she was small and squat. At the sound of his voice she turned round rapidly.

“Ah Severus!” Good of you to join us! So it turns out that you are a traitor after all? What a pity!”

“Funnily enough, I was about to call you a traitor _Dolores_. For that is what you are after all.” Severus snarled, as he confronted the woman who had kidnapped Harry. “It is a pity that you did not stay in the forest you evil old hag! Now what have you done with my nephew?”

Umbridge, laughed hollowly.

“Your nephew! Really Severus you are fooling no-one! You always hated the dirty little brat as much as I did! I certainly know he hates you more than he hate me, and he hates me a very great deal! He only had one year of me at school, Severus, you taunted him for _years!_

“All of that bullshit in the _Daily Prophet_ about how it was all a pretence because you were a spy who had to maintain deep cover! Don’t make me laugh. I saw how he looked at you! He detested you then. He still does, doesn’t he Severus?”

If she had hexed him, Severus would have been fine, he would have fought back, given as good as he got. Severus was a very strong wizard.

But instead she was tearing him apart with words. All of that dreadful year when Umbridge was at Hogwarts, Severus _had_ hated Harry. Truly hated him. Had hated him for himself, not just for being his father’s son, but for receiving what Severus believed to be his undeserved, fêted celebrity. A celebrity awarded for something that had happened when he was a child, something that had not been Harry’s doing, that been all about Lily’s sacrifice. Severus had thought that Harry revelled in being much admired for something that he had no control over. He now knew how wrong he had been, that the Harry that he had hated so much, whose suffering under Umbridge’s regime had given him such perverse pleasure, had never existed.

That year, the year that the boy lost Sirius Black, that was the year that they nearly lost Harry too and Severus still felt crushing guilt for the way he had treated Harry..

“No.” he said, slowly beginning to back away. “I don’t hate him anymore, he doesn’t hate me.”

“I saw his face when he used to look at you,” Umbridge hissed, she was closing on him, moving closer. “Don’t tell me that you are stupid enough to think that he cares about you now either. He is a liar. It is carved into his hand for all the world to see. Did he tell you he liked you Severus? Did you believe him? You wouldn’t be the first person to be deluded by Potter! Look at Dumbledore. He believed in him too. He keeps failing Severus. He was so easy to snatch tonight. So easy to kill.

“No.” Severus said, he put his hands to his ears. He barely noticed the smug, self-satisfied smile that could be seen below the stark, white Death Eater mask. He didn’t see her raise her wand either.

Severus found that he could not even stand to think that Harry hated him. He couldn’t bear it. He didn’t think that Harry was dead, not yet at least. But what if it had all been a pretence? What if he did still hate Severus? What if Harry were just pretending to like him for Eileen’s sake? This was his secret fear, exposed. Umbridge knew it, she’d guessed. Maybe there was some truth in what she was saying?

“Shut up you bitch!” Draco had obviously recovered a little whilst Umbridge had been taunting Severus, “You are the one that is the fucking liar! I saw what you did to Harry’s hand. He loves Severus you cow, leave him alone!”

Umbridge had whirled on Draco now, her wand out and whatever spell she was using on him, he was in agony, his back arched and his mouth fell open in a silent scream

“You shut up, blood traitor,” she was shouting. “Consorting with dirt, with scum! Werewolves, Mudbloods, dirty magic! It will all be destroyed, eradicated when the Dark Lord comes to glory!” 

When Severus had killed Albus, it had been the hardest thing that he had ever had to do. He’d felt like it had torn his soul. Although the recent weeks had done so much to heal him it had still been agony, the worst pain he had ever felt. He wouldn’t let Umbridge destroy what he had with his nephew. He couldn’t lose Harry, wouldn’t lose him now!

He saw his hand rise, as if it belonged to someone else. It wasn’t his hand anymore, it was just a tool, he felt the words leave his lips, the magic leave his wand. Severus had only ever killed one other person like this using this spell. He had killed Albus. This time it was not painful to do, it was almost pleasurable to end her life

He completed the spell and cold green light flew like an arrow, sure and true from the end of his wand and hit Dolores Umbridge squarely in the chest. Then she was falling, falling, falling

With just two words Severus had killed her.

 

 

They sat Harry beside Malfoy. “So we are in Malfoy Manor?” he asked them, “This is Draco’s home?”

“Yes Harry, didn’t you know?” It was Percy who answered him.

“How _would_ I know, Percy?” Harry said rather snappily. He was tired and in a lot of pain again “I have never been here before!”

Percy blushed and looked away.

“Sorry,” he said. Harry felt awful. Percy had been trying really hard to help him. But he was such hard work! He was so different from Ron and the rest of the Weasleys come to that. Just for a second Harry had a flash of what it must be like to be Percy neat, precise and organised in a house that was full of loud messy extroverts. He had always been the odd one out, hadn’t he? But if it weren’t for Percy right now, Harry didn’t know where he would be.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing Percy’s arm, “I don’t mean to take it out on you. I just hurt you know?”

Percy nodded and gave Harry a tentative smile.

“Mr Potter,” Amelia Bones said, “where is your wand? We do need to get out of here, maybe you could transfigure something that we could use to transport you and Mr Malfoy? Who keyed you into the wards by the way, was it Narcissa.”

“Er…I don’t have a wand, Madam Bones,” Harry told her, “and nobody has keyed me into the wards, my magic just seems to be coming back all on its own. It’s weak and fragmented, but it is there.”

It was gloomy in this room, quite dark in fact. But Harry could not miss the fact that everyone was now staring at him. Even Lucius Malfoy.

Draco’s father was in a terrible state. It was obvious that he had been tortured, probably for hours on end. His hair was greasy and plastered to his scalp, his faced was bruised and puffy in places and he seemed to be riddled with open weeping sores. He had stopped whimpering and rocking when the others had lowered Harry to sit beside him. He was not speaking, but he was looking steadily at Harry, not even blinking. It was quite spooky really Harry thought, he couldn’t help himself, he shivered.

The man struggled to sit up. He was shaking almost as badly as Harry was so Ollivander rushed over to help him. When he spoke his speech seemed slurred.

“You did magic, here in this house?” he asked, he was staring hard at Harry now.

Harry blushed, though he had no idea why. 

“Yes.” Harry said simply.

Malfoy looked at him for several long moments before he spoke again. His words were still slurred but he was speaking slowly, enunciating every single word.

“To overcome the wards is impossible, except for one thing.” He took a deep breath, talking was obviously very hard for him. “The wards must have accepted you, you will have nothing like all of your power, but the wards do not see you as a threat. You have helped my family haven’t you?”

The man seemed exhausted by the long speech as he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was breathing hard.

“I did take your family in, Mr Malfoy we have protected them.” Harry said, he didn’t know what else he could say. To start with he didn’t know where Draco was right now. He hoped and prayed that Draco was safe, but he didn’t know for certain, and what else could he say? Your son and I are more than just friends? I love Draco and would never harm him.

He didn’t even _like_ Lucius Malfoy and he was determined that he was not going to have any sort of conversation with the man right now. The man was obviously in a lot of pain, as was Harry come to that. But if he started spouting some of the prejudiced nonsense that he usually came out with Harry would have to hit him – he wasn’t strong enough to hex the man – and it was obvious to Harry that they needed to work together to get out of here. Merlin knew how they would manage, the state that he and Lucius Malfoy were in, but they had to try.

For a long moment no one spoke and then Lucius Malfoy said in a husky broken voice.

“Mr Potter, would you be so good as to give me your hands? Amelia, we need to be facing each other, will you help me sit up?”

It was Percy that moved forward to help, Percy who held Lucius Malfoy as he took Harry’s hands in his own. Everyone else was so much weaker, everyone else was ill or in pain. Percy was the only one among them who was so far unbroken.

Harry thought this was totally surreal, this man had hated him in the past and Harry had returned those feelings in full, and here he was, trusting Malfoy to release his magic. Yet another bizarre twist in Harry’s strange and peculiar life.

Lucius Malfoy began to chant under his breath. He used a language that Harry did not recognise, it sounded ancient, far older than civilisation. As Malfoy chanted Harry felt a tingling in the air, a feeling of strength and well being started to flow gently through Harry’s veins and then all at once it was if someone had opened floodgates that Harry hadn’t even known were closed and his body seemed infused with, heat and health and _magic_

 

It was easy enough for Severus to carry Draco. The boy was ridiculously light for his age and height, just like Harry was. What bothered Severus though was the way that the remaining Death Eaters seemed to be melting from the battlefield in the direction of the Manor, it was as if they were fleeing back to safety, worried that their opponents were about to attack and Severus could not work out why. He had thought that the Order and its supporters were weakening. More people had been injured in the last few minutes it seemed, people were getting tired they were making mistakes, the lack of battle experience of many of the combatants was beginning to show. 

Voldemort had yet to make an appearance. But Severus did not feel like celebrating the Dark Lord’s absence all he wanted to do was find his nephew. Harry had been missing for nearly two hours now and Severus was becoming more and more worried.

He decided that he would deliver Draco to the command post and then grab someone with a bit of experience, like Kingsley, for example and head for the Manor itself. There had to be some way through, surely there did? He couldn’t fail on this, he couldn’t let himself fail. Harry could be injured, he could be in pain. Voldemort could be in the house, still torturing Harry whilst the battle raged outside

But then Severus got no further, because the command post seemed to be fleeing towards him. For a moment he stopped and wondered what they could be running from. The he saw them, coming through the trees ahead, illuminated by brief flashes of spell light. Hundreds of Inferi.

Severus lowered Draco to the ground and started to try to grab anyone that he recognised. Everyone seemed to be panicking and they were dashing towards the house, not thinking, not stopping. The Manor House where the Death Eaters were gathering. They were running into a trap.

Finally he saw Kingsley and grabbed him. The big Auror was not running, he was instead backing away from the Inferi, sending out spell after spell, none of which seemed to be working.

The Inferi, just kept coming. They had almost reached the Ha-ha now and behind them, driving them on, waving his arms to drive on his mindless soldiers was the Dark Lord. Voldemort was not at the house, he was here at the battle, bringing re-enforcements to the fray.

 

 

Harry was feeling desperate. He could not seem to get the others to move. Once his magic had come back, Harry had felt energised, ready to leave. But the others who had shared his captivity did not seem able to hurry. Although Ollivander and Amelia Bones were in far better shape than Harry had been they were still obviously struggling to keep up.

The corridors were long and dark, the floor uneven. They kept tripping up, stumbling. He and Percy were trying to support Lucius Malfoy but the man was in a dreadful state. Harry was worried about how Draco would react when he saw his father. The once proud Pureblood. Who now could not walk unaided and seemed to be struggling to move even with the support of Harry and Percy.

They had been struggling on for nearly ten minutes but they were not getting very far. Harry would normally just cast _Mobilicorpus_ but Madam Bones had forestalled him when he tried to do that earlier. Lucius Malfoy it seemed had had some kind of dark spell cast on him, one that made him react to magic. They had tried a simple cleansing charm on him, just a few days ago and he had screamed in agony. Apparently it not only made whatever tortures the Death Eater’s were using on him so much more painful, but it seemed also to reverse the effects of light magic, turning them into the equivalent of dark curses too.

Harry despaired that they would ever get out of this dark benighted place. They finally reached the end of the long corridor and Harry felt his blood run cold. He had been smelling smoke for a little while, but he had ignored it, thinking it to be outside. But this smoke seemed very close now and much thicker. If they didn’t get out now then they might not get out at all, their exit may soon be blocked by the flames that he could just see beginning to dance at the other end of the corridor into which they had turned. There was only one way that they could go now and they would have to hurry, they were being pursued by flames.

Harry turned to Amelia Bones.

“Can Mr Malfoy touch magic?” he asked, “Is he affected if he touches something magical?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. She had obviously seen the flames too, her eyes were wide with terror.”

“Harry we have to go!” Percy was getting worried as well, “we have to leave him, we can help the others an still be able to get out but. Harry we have to leave him.”

Lucius Malfoy’s head drooped, “The boy is right Potter, you must leave me, I am slowing everyone down. You must get away!”

“No!” Harry said, “We are in this together, nobody gets let behind! Now can someone tell me, can you touch magic?”

“I…I…have a photo of Draco and Narcissa. …I…I…have kept it all along, I can touch that. That is magical”

“Okay,” Harry said emphatically, “We might be okay then, Percy, you have to hold Mr Malfoy, I’m going to try something, don’t panic, I will not hurt you, I won’t hurt anyone, I promise, and if it works then we’ll be getting out, we’ll be going home.”

 

 

Severus had at last made the panicked wizards stop their flight. Not all of them perhaps, but enough for now at least. He thought he had managed it by sheer force of will alone, but he had managed it. The Inferi were still mindlessly heading towards them, relentless in their forced march.

He had arranged his raggletaggle troops in two rows. One row faced towards the Ha-ha and the fields beyond, waiting for the Inferi to get closer. The other row defended them from the Death Eater ranks behind them, who were again flowing out form the Maonr and joyfully sending a rain of hexes at them. They thought they had won didn’t they? They thought the battle was over.

Severus tightened his jaw. He was not giving in that easily. All those years of learning dark magic were surely not a total waste? How else could dark magic be overcome sometimes other than to use dark spells in retaliation? And this spell was particularly dark

Neville Longbottom was crying, and for once Severus could not blame the boy, for if this didn’t work then they were all lost. As they reached the Ha-ha the Inferi started to fall into the ornamental ditch. That was when Severus gave the command and each and every one of the wizards that he had assembled aimed their wands and simultaneously cast _Conflagrate_. and all at once the ditch and all those Inferi that had fallen into it became a bright mass of the hottest, most unquenchable flame. _Conflagrate_ could not be quenched by a flame freezing charm, or by any other method, until it had done its job at least. The flames would not die until all trace of the creatures that were currently tumbling into the ferocious inferno had been eradicated. Then it would die away leaving not a trace and it would be as if the flames had never burned at all.

Severus saw Voldemort Disapparate, heard his frustrated below and heard the pops behind him that signified his Death Eaters had done the same. What might have been a masterstroke that secured Voldemort’s victory had been instead a crushing defeat.

But now at last he could go and find Harry and take him home.

He stood and watched for just a few seconds long making sure that Voldemort had truly gone and then he registered the grief stricken sounds surrounding him and turned back towards the Manor.

What he saw froze his blood in his veins.

The Manor was on fire too; it was blazing as fiercely as the ditch behind them

Hermione was sobbing. Ron Weasley held her in his arms and stared ahead of him in horror. Severus saw him mouth the word _Harry_ , and watched the tears make their way unnoticed down his cheeks.

Draco was on his knees, his face too a mask of horror as he watched Malfoy Manor burn

Severus too fell to his knees. How would they find Harry in that? Even as he watched he saw one wing collapse in on itself with a tremendous roaring noise.

He buried his face in his hands, he simply could not watch. And he could even begin to imagine how would he tell Eileen that Harry was dead or at best still in the clutches of the Dark Lord?

For a second or two he did not move, but then he felt a tentative touch, like the brush of a bird’s wing.

“Professor? Professor Snape. You have to get up now, Harry needs you!”

Severus felt overwhelmed by despair; they had fought so hard tonight, struggled so hard, and all for nothing. He was no nearer finding Harry than he had been when the boy had first been taken. Severus could only hope that Voldemort still had him, that he was at least alive. Because if Harry and Percy had been in the Manor house then there was no hope for them at all.

“Professor!” It was Luna; she was tugging at his sleeve. “Harry needs you!” Severus was about to snarl at her, tell her to back off, leave him alone. That he knew full well that Harry needed him but that there was not a lot he could do about it right now. He looked up at her, but she wasn’t looking at him, she was looking towards where the house had once stood. They all were, all those gathered around him. And the looks of despair that had been so evident just moments before were nowhere to be seen.

Draco who had knelt at Severus feet, seemingly with no hope left in his heart was still cradling his injured arm, but he was smiling and then as Severus watched he began to laugh.

Severus followed his gaze. There ahead of them, emerging from the smoke, illuminated by the flames were some five figures. There was a man; even from this distance Severus could tell it was Percy. He was supporting a woman, who was limping badly but still struggling on. Another man, who looked for all the world like Ollivander the missing wand maker, followed closely behind the pair. The fourth figure might be considered the source of Draco’s joy, for it was the boy’s father and he was very obviously still alive. 

But the fifth figure was the one that was truly remarkable. Walking slowly and purposefully carrying Lucius Malfoy and supporting Ollivander, was Harry. Severus began to laugh too. Never had Harry looked more magnificent in Severus’ eyes, he had never been more pleased to see his nephew in all the time that he had known him. Harry was coming home and bringing back those that were lost and he was doing it as a lion.

 

*The ha-ha is a feature in the landscape gardens laid out by Charles Bridgeman, the originator of the ha-ha, according to Horace Walpole (Walpole 1780) and by William Kent and was an essential component of the "swept" views of Capability Brown. Malfoy Manor is the kind of house that would probably have features such as a Ha-ha. If you are interested in learning more then go to the url posted below. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ha-ha_(garden)


	38. Chapter Thirty-eight

Hi everyone I am on holiday still in not so sunny Vancouver,  
I really tried to finish this story before DH day but i still have at least 4-6 chapters to go. I have sent 12,000 words off to be betaed, but as everyone will be heads down reading number seven right now I am not expecting anything back for a couple of days. I am off tomorrow to a remote island with no internet so even if i do get the chapters back (which I won't cause no internet) I won't be able to post them till I get home in a little over a week. So this chapter is to keep you going till I get back.

I am not planning on reading DH till I finish this so it will not be DH compliant and will not contain any spoilers except the ones that come from my deranged mind. Happy DH day everyone

Oh just in case anyone missed it. This chapter is not betaed m'just saying! ~ Lucie

 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

There were many images from that night that Severus would never forget. The horrendous flames that had seemingly been everywhere. Draco hugging his ailing father and then Harry, dashing between the two of them as if he could not decide who was the most important. If Lucius had been in any doubts about how his son felt about Harry then those thoughts would have been quickly settled. Draco simply could not stop kissing and hugging Harry. It was as if he could not thank him enough even though it seemed that his heart might be breaking in two at the loss of his home and fat, wet tears were pouring down his cheeks for what seemed like hours.

Later Severus saw some of the captured Death Eaters at the Ministry and realised that they truly had struck a huge blow against Voldemort. Some of the elite were there, well those that were left anyway, held captive by several stunned looking Aurors. Death Eaters, men who had once laughed at the idea of defeat and revelled in the pain of others had been beaten by a raggle-taggle army, a number of whom were still children.

He would never forget the soot stained faces of the teenagers who had once made up Dumbledore’s Army, or the somewhat haunted look in their eyes, but these children had grown up that night, each and every one of them had proved their heroism time and time again and helped to deal Voldemort’s forces a crushing blow.

Of course the greatest hero of them all was Harry

Percy had told them over and over again that Harry should be dead or insane. He told of the hour of torture that Harry had suffered, his face too had been haunted, pale as he remembered Harry’s screams, his agony. Percy had gained an almost religious zeal when he talked about Harry he spoke about the boy with the true passion of the convert, as far as he was concerned it seemed Harry could do no wrong. His eyes shone with a fierce passion when he told everyone how wonderful he thought Harry was, how brave, how strong. And Harry being typically himself blushed whenever Percy said anything and tried desperately to avoid him for the short time that he was in Percy’s company before Severus took his nephew back to Grimmauld Place.

Molly too had taken to gushing about Harry. He had brought her lost chick back after all and he had saved her daughter - a fact she had seemed to forget all too easily only the day before, but could not seem to stop talking about now. Severus thought that Molly truly did see Harry as one of her own, she truly did love him, but whereas all of Molly’s children – perhaps with the exception of Percy himself, were cheerful and extraverted, Harry was not nearly as robust emotionally. His nephew was obviously very fond of Molly but seemed somewhat overwhelmed by her Severus decided. 

Molly and Ginny had had several volatile screaming rows in the last day or so. Ginny deeply resented not being able to help the others during the _Battle of Malfoy Manor_ as it came to be known and finally her mother crumbled. In protecting Ginny so fiercely she nearly lost Percy. It was as if Molly realised at last that she could no longer protect her daughter. That perhaps Ginny too had a destiny and that she and only she, could help to finally defeat Voldemort for good. Molly had agreed in the end, after several days of fierce argument, that Ginny could help to destroy the final Horcruxes, a task that was much easier now that they were so much closer to finding the two remaining ones, well apart from Harry himself that was.

Ollivander had been captured by Voldemort they had discovered, because the Dark Lord was seeking reassurance that a certain missing wand would indeed stay missing. The wand maker had told Severus and Kingsley that he had no idea why _He Who Should Not Be Named_ had wanted it so desperately, but he had questioned Ollivander for hours under Veritaserum regarding its current whereabouts. Ollivander had told them cheerfully that he had no idea where the wand might be and had told Voldemort so, which had it seemed completely reassured him. 

But what Voldemort had not asked Ollivander with all his hours of questioning the inscrutable man told them freely with a glint in those mysteriously milky eyes of his. He didn’t know where the wand was but he did know who would. Bill Weasley had then been dispatched to Hogwarts to seek the advise of one Grey Lady. A familiar figure to them all, but one whose importance had never been realised, it turned out, that she was in fact one of the oldest ghosts in Hogwarts, a sad figure who still mourned her lost love Salazar Slytherin, even after many hundreds of years. If anyone had ever known they had long forgotten that she was Rowena Ravenclaw and of course she knew where her wand was now. 

Amelia Bones was the oldest living person in her family. Her brother Phineas Smith had been killed by Voldemort’s forces the first time that the Dark Lord had risen to power, just as he had murdered her aunt for possession of a certain artefact, a cup which had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. 

Amelia had had the cup hidden at Hogwarts but had told nobody of its whereabouts, not even Dumbledore. Ron went with his brother to retrieve it. He had remembered seeing it one long ago detention when he had been cursed with a backfired hex which had left him vomiting slugs for hours, all over the shields and cups that he had been detailed to clean.

Why Voldemort had not tortured these two last witnesses to the whereabouts of the artefacts that contained his precious Horcruxes, Severus would never know for sure. But he thought it yet another testament to Tom Riddle’s arrogant belief in his own infalibility. Severus pondered about the possibity that Voldemort had assumed that he had plenty of time, that his Horcruxes were safe and that he had captured Ollivander and Amelia merely as some sort of insurance, to ensure that no-one else would ever find out where he had hidden his precious artifacts.

Of course that meant that perhaps Voldemort knew that some of his existing Horcruxes had been destroyed, but Severus was not going to worry about that right now.

The battle had been a damaging one for the Dark Lord in many, many ways. But he was not defeated yet. 

Of all the images of that night, of all the changes that came about subsequently Eileen’s face when they returned home to Grimmauld Place after the battle, was the one that Severus would remember most. Her relief, her joy at having her grandson and indeed her son returned safely to her was almost palpable. And like the conquering hero that it seemed that Harry truly was, he stoically waited until he saw his grandmother again before he collapsed into her arms and buried his head upon her shoulder. Seeing her finally gave Harry the permission to be what he really was when all was said and done, a teenage boy, who had once again faced a monster and survived against all odds.

When he returned home, Harry slept once more, exhausted both physically and magically. And whilst he did, the world moved on just a little bit. Scrimgeour found himself deposed as Minister overnight. The wizarding pubic decided quite vociferously that it would not stand for lies and incompetence any longer and they could not forgive him the fact that he had imprisoned innocents like Stan Shunpike, whilst he had employed someone like Dolores Umbridge who had tried to turn their hero over to the Dark Lord and almost succeeded in her task. They were delighted to have someone with the integrity of Amelia Bones back with them and she was pressed by several prominent citizens to stand in as Minister with the support of Kingsley Shacklebolt whilst she recovered her strength.

No-one was more delighted by her return however than Robbie who had held his aunt in his arms and wept unashamedly like a little boy.

Kingsley arranged for Lucius Malfoy to be taken back to Grimmauld Place instead of returned to prison. He was placed under house arrest but both Kingsley and Amelia promised that they would not allow Lucius to be returned to his cell. Amelia had seen what Lucius had endured and was sickened by it. All of them believed that he would not survive Azkaban again; the man was just too weak, too fragile. Lucius had suffered truly dreadful tortures, but all of them had to be cured using a combination of Muggle medicine and ‘Harry Salve’ as Severus had taken to calling it. 

Lucius could not seem to tolerate ordinary potions, whatever curse the Death Eaters had used saw to that. A simple scarify potion had him screaming in absolute agony, until they had finally managed to sponge him clean again. But somehow, perhaps because of his proximity to Harry at the Manor, Lucius seemed to be able to tolerate any potion made from Harry’s animagus fur. Of course with Harry so deeply asleep, the stock of potions were fast running out, but Severus was loathe to wake him, even if he had been able.

When Harry had returned that night he had begun to shake violently, displaying all the characteristics of severe Cruciatus damage. Eileen had insisted that Harry be given some dreamless sleep and some time to heal. Two days later he was still asleep, long after the potion had been metabolised and should have worn off.

Why he still slept no-one was really sure, but Severus thought that the damage that had been done to his nephew had been even more severe than any of them first realised.

Sometimes Severus sat with the slumbering Harry and sometimes Eileen did, but he was never alone, not even for a moment. Neither of them could bear to let the boy out of their sight. Not now and possibly not ever again.

Draco spent a lot of time with Harry too. Every so often in those days that Harry slept yet again Draco would come and sit by him and just hold his hand, or stroke his cheek and not say very much at all. Severus was surprised to find that he was really worried for the boy. Draco had taken shock after shock in the last few days and Severus wondered whether the boy was close to collapse. But time and again Draco surprised him, he surprised them all with his quiet strength and his dignity.

It became increasingly obvious, that Lucius would never again be the man that he was. Sometimes he was lucid and spoke sensibly about the battle and the loss of his ancestral home. At other times he ranted and raved and screamed his aguish for everyone to hear. Narcissa, tried desperately hard to be brave, but came to see Severus in quiet moments to tell of her despair. Severus wondered when he had become a support for so many people. Since he had unofficially been elected as head of the Order, Kingsley, Arthur and the others had sought his advice for most big decisions, but with his irascible temper and fiercely private nature he thought he would be the last person that anyone should turn to for advise, after all he thought he had quite thoroughly fucked up his own life in the past! But turn to him they did. 

Severus was half tempted to go and look at himself in the mirror sometimes to see if his eyes had started twinkling! As far as he was concerned a less suitable replacement for Albus than himself would be damned near impossible to find. But no-one else seemed to agree with him, Severus could almost see the old man roaring with laughter at his protégé’s strange predicament.

It was quite late now and everything was quiet, whilst Harry slept on, oblivious once again, his magic trying to heal the damage that he had suffered, Draco drifted in and out of the room. Severus thought that maybe Draco was not keen on letting Harry out of his sight anymore than he and Eileen were. Ron and Hermione visited regularly too and Severus had finally come to see what good friends they were to his nephew. He had keenly disliked the Gryffindor trio when they had been at Hogwarts and yet now he valued them more than he could ever say. Severus was truly touched by how much his nephew was loved. Not that Harry seemed to have any idea how they felt about him.

Severus stood up and stretched. He was aching a bit from sitting in the same position for several hours. He looked out of the tower window over the Quidditch Pitch and wondered what Harry would do when he woke up and realised that he was in Gryffindor Tower, he wondered whether Harry would laugh at the fact that his once hated potions professor was sitting by his bedside, occasionally brushing his messy fringe from his forehead, after all, he couldn’t quite believe it himself!

He had hoped that Harry would have woken up during the journey, however he had simply slumbered on, but Severus knew from his recent experiences with Harry’s bouts of unconsciousness that until he was ready, nothing whatsoever would wake him.

Minerva had opened the floo network for them for the return, something that was unheard of for Hogwarts. Severus could not bear the thought of Harry waking whilst being Portkeyed once again. If he had hated Portkeys before, how much worse would he feel now?

So Severus had carried him, “it is getting to be quite a habit, me carrying you like this isn’t it Harry?” Severus had whispered into the boy’s hair as he lifted him into the green flames, he had shocked himself to the very core when he had found himself placing a gentle kiss on Harry’s forehead.

They had had no choice but to return here to the school. Even if it was hard for Severus, and Draco too for that matter. Grimmauld Place just wasn’t safe any longer. Newspaper reporters had taken to lurking around outside the house. Seeking an interview with himself or with Eileen. Her story had been serialised over several days and apparently avidly read by the majority of the wizarding world, and that along with reports and images of Severus’ at the Battle of Malfoy Manor had also turned Severus into something of a hero. 

Albus’ Pensieve testimony had further excited the magical public. The old wizard had spoken of how fond of Severus he was, how much he had relied on him and how much he had asked of Severus when he had asked the other man to kill him.

Complete strangers kept coming up to Severus in the street, at the Ministry, everywhere he went. They would insist on shaking his hand, patting him on the back, telling him how wonderful he was. It made Severus feel deeply, deeply uncomfortable. He thought he had some idea how Harry must have felt now, not enjoying his fame at all.

“He is a rather unlikely hero Severus is he not?”

Lucius Malfoy broke into Severus’ musing.

“Almost as improbable an adversary as you are yourself old friend. It is no wonder that I could not know, that I chose the wrong side. Who would have believed that such a fragile child could have proven so resilient? Have defied the Dark Lord so often and won?”

Severus turned and looked at the blond man. Letting his black velvet eyes bore into Lucius’ silver ones. Lucius was beginning to look somewhat better. After nearly five days his bruises were beginning to fade, his cuts were healing, but his cheeks were still hollow his skin was grey and his eyes held a haunted look that Severus thought would probably take a long time to fade, if it ever did.

“How could we have been so wrong, Severus?” Lucius, continued.

He smiled somewhat wryly, “but then perhaps you were not fooled for long, hmmm Severus? When did you join his side.” The blond man gestured his head in Harry’s direction.

“I have been on his side all of his life,” Severus said quietly. “As soon as I knew that Lily was a target I promised myself, I promised her that I would protect him. I haven’t done a very good job for most of his life, but at least I kept him alive.”

Lucius said nothing for a moment or two. He just sat in a battered old faded red armchair and watched Harry sleep.

Severus thought how much things had changed, not that long ago he would not have allowed Lucius to be anywhere near Harry, even if he had been awake. 

“How could we have been so wrong, Severus?” Lucius asked, “You did believe The Dark Lord once, didn’t you? You thought he was the answer to our problems too didn’t you? He was so powerful, so charismatic. What he said seemed to make so much sense. I believed him, I believed in him. But what a fool I was. 

“He has destroyed me, destroyed my home, my son. The Malfoy name is in the mud, it may never recover, I think our assets will almost certainly be seized, Amelia intimated that such might be the price for my freedom. Not from her, she pities me I think, she saw what…..what they did to me, she knows that I am no longer a threat. But as far as the wizarding public is concerned I am a criminal and always will be in their eyes, such is the legacy that I have given Draco. 

“What he did to me, Severus, a pureblood. Once of the ones that he swore that were special to him. What he did to Draco, to Narcissa! For a long time I thought that he would kill us all.

“But I don’t believe that now. That child, a boy whom I despised for a long, long time, he helped saved my son, he sheltered my wife, he has more power than I have ever felt before in my life. He will win won’t he?”

“I think he will.” Severus said simply. “He certainly will if I have anything to do with it. I will not let him be hurt again Lucius, not by anyone.”

Lucius flinched.

“I won’t hurt him Severus,” he said, “In fact I rather doubt that I _could_ hurt him. Do you have any idea how powerful he is?”

“Of course I do. I have known for quite sometime that he has very strong powers indeed. He is stronger perhaps than any wizard that I have ever known, including Albus, including…”

“Including the Dark Lord? But whilst he is immensely strong, he is very young and could be easily tricked?”

Severus’ wand was in his hand even before Lucius stopped speaking.

The blond man looked at him steadily

“Go ahead Severus; it is not as if I would be able to stop you. I have no strength, little magic. If you cast a tickling charm it would probably kill me. I was not threatening him; I was merely making an observation. I have nowhere to go Severus, nowhere left to turn. If you and he do not protect my family then we are almost certainly lost. We have nothing left, my home is gone, my assets frozen, my son is a werewolf, why would I jeopardise my last chance?

Harry is young; he is trusting, despite all that he seems to have been through. He needs to be guided Severus. I want to help; I have a vested interest in his victory.

“When he was at the Manor, he was casting magic, it was not strong, but it should not have been possible at all, he overcame the wards Severus, no-one has been able to do that, no-one ever, not even the Dark Lord himself. It should not have happened. I took his hands in my own and I felt the magic inside him. But the Weasley boy and the others they had told him that he could not use his powers in the Manor, that the dampening wards would not allow such a thing. But it was not the wards stopping him Severus; it was his own belief in what the others were telling him. So I lied, I pretended that I had connected him to the wards. But how could I have done without my wand? I can’t use my magic right now Severus, I might never be able to use it again, but I told him that I had cast a spell so that he could use his magic and he believed me. 

“I have no idea how he did it, how he overcame the wards. They must have held him at first perhaps, but they could not for long, and I suspect that his relationship with my son helped things along.

“He loves Draco doesn’t he? He protected him, defended him and perhaps the wards simply allowed themselves to be overcome. I told him the truth about that, but it was his power and his power alone that got us out of there in the end, otherwise we too would have become ashes beneath the walls. 

When he changed, when he became an Animagus, without a wand, without even speaking a spell, I nearly screamed. Amelia did, although he had warned us beforehand. He was amazing, a more magnificent form I have yet to see. 

“But I lied to him and he believed me Severus. What if the Dark Lord does the same?”


	39. Chapter Thirty-nine

A/N Hi all! I'm back from holiday and have just about finished this story whilst I was away. Then I read DH! I can safely say that there will be no spoilers for DH in this story it is completely AU. There will probably be about 6- 8 more chapters and then I will get back to Concubine which will also be totally AU!

Thanks Claudia for being your brilliant self 

 

Thirty Nine

 

Harry opened his eyes slowly, wincing a little, as if the light was too strong for him, and then stared somewhat fuzzily at the room that he was in.

“Hello Harry,” Severus said gently, feeling a now familiar tenderness wash over him at the sight of his nephew’s befuddled green eyes. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

Harry turned to him surprised and smiled somewhat shakily. “Hi Sev’rus, m’sore I think. Is everyone okay? How is Draco? Hermione? Ron?”

“They’re fine Harry, everyone is fine, everyone is safe.”

“What about Mr Malfoy? He was in pretty bad shape. Has he gone to St Mungo’s? Is he angry with me and Draco?”

Severus smiled this time. “Draco is fine, all your friends are fine, and Lucius is here at Hogwarts at the infirmary, which is where Poppy wanted to you to be to I might add. No-one is angry with you Harry.”

“Why’m I here then?” Harry asked lifting his head from the pillow. “Why am I at Hogwarts Severus? Why am I,” his voice grew soft with wonder, “Why Gryffindor Tower?”

“Because Hogwarts is the best place to be Harry,” Severus replied. “And I thought you would like being in the tower.

“The school is the safest place that we could think of right now, for all of us, and there are other reasons too. Good ones that we will talk about later.”

“Oh,” said Harry meekly, which told Severus more clearly than anything else would have done, that Harry was really not feeling very well at all. Since when had Harry ever been meek about anything?

“Why am I hurting?” Harry said, which further suggested that Harry was not himself.

“You were tortured Harry, do you not remember? Tortured almost to the point of insanity, at least according to Percy.”

“But I got over it.” Harry didn’t deny that he had been tortured, which Severus thought very significant. Harry tended to play down any injury which meant that he must have been in horrible pain.” “I’m fine Severus,” Harry continued, though his voice was slurred and his eyes still seemed somewhat unfocussed, “my magic made it better.”

“Your magic helped, but you also used it to help the others, to shield you all from the flames at Malfoy Manor, to transform into your Animagus shape, and all without a wand Harry.”

“But…” Harry’s brow was furrowed, he seemed to be struggling to understand something, “Hurts, Sev’rus,” was all that he managed to say before he let himself drift back to sleep.

 

The next time that Harry awoke, Severus was sleeping. Harry had a vague memory that they had already talked, but it was very fuzzy and he was not sure that it was real. He was at Hogwarts, he remembered that at least. Harry would know this room anywhere, he would know it even in the dark; he had woken many times from nightmares late at night. There was something about this room. The space all around him and the shadows on the walls, the tall leaded windows, the colours, the scents. Harry would always know it, no matter how disorientated he felt.

His body felt completely leaden. Every bit of him ached. It was as if he had gone several rounds with Dudley pounding him into the ground, hurting him, he felt battered and bruised and very tired. He tried to sit up, but that hurt too. Someone was holding his hand, and Harry was shocked to discover it was Severus. Harry’s uncle had pulled an armchair close to his bed and he was sitting in it and holding Harry’s hand, just loosely, as if he cared. It didn’t feel awkward or forced; it felt lovely Harry decided, like something a father might do, or an uncle. If they really cared about you. Harry suddenly had a lump in his throat again. It seemed to have taken up permanent residence these days. He knew all at once that Severus wasn’t going to leave him, not like every one else had. His uncle was fast asleep right now, head resting on one wing of the chair. His face looked completely different in repose, softer somehow, younger. But he still had Harry’s hand in his own, as if reassuring himself that Harry was still there.

“You really do care about me don’t you Severus?” Harry whispered into the darkened room.

“You have no idea Harry, he has been insane with worry, nearly driven us all mad too!”

Harry jumped.

He peered through the darkness to see Draco sitting on the end of his bed, wrapped in a blanket, leaning against the bedpost. It seemed totally bizarre to Harry to see Draco Malfoy, so comfortable, so at home in Gryffindor Tower. 

“Hi you,” he said, he suddenly felt enormously happy, and safe. “I’m home Draco,” he said somewhat stupidly he realised, because of course Draco knew where they were, but he couldn’t help himself, he babbled. “They’ve brought me home.”

“Oh do shut up you sappy git!” Draco said, gently nudging Harry’s foot with his own. “Don’t start saying things like that or I’ll end up blubbing like a fucking girl you daft sod!”

Harry could have sworn that Draco was wiping away a tear with the back of his hand, but it was dark in here and he didn’t have his glasses, so he couldn’t really be sure. Then Draco’s familiar superior look was back and Harry thought that maybe he had imagined it after all.

“Severus hasn’t slept for days you know?” Draco continued, “Severus, or Eileen either for that matter, Severus finally tricked her into taking a dreamless sleep potion or she would be here too. It has been downright maudlin round here! For a teenage boy you spend an awful lot of time asleep!”

“Yeah, well I seem to spend an awful lot of time fighting off Voldemort too if you ask me!” Harry said, somewhat snottily, then he felt instantly guilty when he saw Draco wince at the use of Voldemort’s name.

“Sorry,” he said. 

“No I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, “I was worried too Harry. It’s awful when you sleep like that, nothing seems to wake you. They tried using spells and potions but you just slept on and each time, it seems like this might be the time that you don’t wake up.

“Percy said, he said that you, that erm, _the Dark Lord_ hurt you so much, he said that you were screaming Harry! And you don’t scream, you are so brave, but he must have hurt you so badly.”

Draco’s voice sounded really strained, like he was trying not to cry.

Harry lifted his free arm, “Come ‘ere,” he said, “I’m fine Draco.” He winced a little as he spoke, but he didn’t think Draco had seen. Seconds later he had an arm full of Draco. A Draco who was tenderly caressing his cheek, as his tears fell freely all over Harry’s face. He was sobbing now, not even trying to hide it. He buried his face in the nape of Harry’s neck and wrapped his arms around him.

“Thank Merlin that you are alright! I can’t lose you Harry, I just can’t!”

Harry’s wince was a bit more obvious this time and he couldn’t hide it and which resulted in Draco sobbing even harder.

“Shit, I’m sorry Harry, I hurt you? Oh fuck!” Draco was patting him now, ineffectually trying to make it better.

“Draco,” Harry said gently. “Shut up and hug me, I won’t break! You should know you tried hard enough to break me yourself in the past!”

“Oh fuckit Harry I’m sorry about that, I’m sorry about sixth year and the nose thing and the fight and oh shit!” he was babbling again, so Harry kissed him.

“Mmmmfff!” Draco said, so Harry kissed him again.

“I’m okay Draco. I’ve been _Crucioed_ before, I’ve survived before. Percy Weasley is a wuss!”

“Harry, you were shaking when you were unconscious, trembling and shivering! Eileen said that it looked like you were suffering from severe Cruciatus damage. ” Draco continued. “Severus was worried too remember and you can’t say that he is a wuss!”

They both looked at the dark haired man who was now snoring gently in the armchair. They had been whispering, so as to not wake him.

Harry wasn’t sure how Draco felt about it, but he loved the fact that it was just the two of them, even if he was flat on his back and feeling like shit. They had had little enough time together recently in Harry’s opinion and he wanted to taste those lips again and feel those firm insistent hands around his body. Harry still felt dreadful, but his cock was stirring ever so slightly, so he kissed Draco again, more firmly this time.

“You are so gorgeous Draco!” He murmured, he was almost sighing his words against Draco’s lips, against his cheek, “so fucking beautiful!”

Gently he wheedled his hand away from Severus’ own.

“Harry be careful!” Severus moaned, “watch out for Quirrill, he wants to give you to the Dark Lord, you foolish boy!”

Harry stilled for a moment. But Severus simply gripped the arm of the chair tightly and whispered, “save him Albus, the broom is cursed!” before falling quiet again.

For a moment Harry felt absurdly touched. Severus was remembering when Harry was a first year; he hadn’t even liked Harry then, and would never have called him by his first name, but had apparently still worried about him anyway.

The other man’s hand relaxed then and his breathing deepened.

Harry felt something silky and very slightly damp brush his cheek. It was Draco’s eyelashes, still wet with his tears and Harry felt a fresh wave of tenderness wash over him, for Draco this time. He brought his now free hand to Draco’s cheek and caressed it.

“Are you alright Dragon?” he asked.

Harry had taken to calling Draco that just a few days earlier, a few days before Voldemort snatched him yet again.

Draco shrugged.

“Not really. Although I’m a lot better since you’ve woken up.

“I really thought that I had lost you this time Harry, and I couldn’t bear that. The Manor has gone, did you know? We have lost everything, absolutely everything.”

Draco had snuggled up against Harry and had his head resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be going on about this stuff; you should be resting Harry, not hearing my stupid woes.”

Harry stroked Draco’s cheek again.

“Just tell me love,” he said, “I want to hear your problems, you shouldn’t keep them to yourself.”

So in low tones, Draco continued. He told Harry how worried he was about his father, about Lucius’ bouts of anger and sorrow. He described how frantic Narcissa was, how Amelia Bones had warned them that their assets were about to be frozen and how they now had very little money left. He told Harry that he thought Amelia had warned them so that they would be able to save some funds and that Severus had helped them to squirrel some money away under his name and under Narcissa’s. Draco was crying when he told Harry about the destruction of the Manor and how much he had loved his home, how much it hurt to lose it 

He was angry too.

He whispered to Harry as if it was the worst betrayal, how angry he was at his father for getting them all into this mess, how sometimes he could barely bring himself to speak to the man that he used to love and respect. How he thought he could never tell Lucius, because he was worried that the man might fall apart anyway and that he did not need Draco’s anger on top of his own very obvious guilt.

He told of his mother’s tears, her own sorrow at the loss of their home.

Finally his voice grew hoarse and his words trailed away and very slowly he drifted off to sleep.

Harry lay awake for a very long time after that. He was quite thirsty and would have loved a glass of water, but he wasn’t going to move, not for anything. His heart ached for Draco. He still didn’t like Lucius, and whilst he had come to like Narcissa to a certain extent, he thought that he would never feel that way about Draco’s father. The man was just too arrogant in Harry’s opinion. He couldn’t help remembering how Lucius had treated Dobby, had sneered at the Weasleys and had given Ginny Riddle’s diary in order to help discredit Arthur – Harry didn’t think that Lucius had known anything about the fact it was a Horcrux, he had just wanted to hurt a family that he despised. And Harry couldn’t stop thinking about how he had been present at the Ministry when Harry had gone after his godfather, how horrible he had been, how he contributed to Sirius’ death.

If Lucius had not taught Draco to hate in the way that he had, how different things might have been. Harry’s mother and father had died trying to protect him but Draco’s father had led him into danger, given him no option but to follow a dark wizard. Lucius Malfoy had been wealthy enough to avoid Voldemort, he could have protected his family, got them to another country, to safety.

But instead he had been an enthusiastic Death Eater, how frightening Lucius had been, how loyal to Voldemort he had seemed to be. He had probably encouraged many others to support the evil wizard when Harry thought that Lucius could have convinced Fudge that Voldemort was back instead. He had seemed to have had a lot of influence with the erstwhile Minister for Magic. Dumbledore would have hidden the Malfoys and kept them safe, Harry knew that now, Draco could have been safe. The very idea of Draco in danger sent chills through Harry. Lucius should have protected him, put his family first.

But then he thought of the man that he had rescued from the Manor. How broken he had seemed. Harry had told them all that he was going to transform but they had still seemed terrified when he stood before them. Harry had no real idea what he looked like as a lion. He had never seen himself in that form after all, but - he smiled in the dark when he remembered – Percy had screamed and backed away. Ollivander’s eyes had grown even wider and Amelia Bones had sat down on the floor with shock. It had been Lucius who had come over to him, even if he had had to crawl to get there, and buried his hand in Harry’s fur.

That had been really brave in Harry’s opinion, especially as he seemed to feel great pain whenever magic was performed on him and couldn’t have known how close proximity to Harry would affect him. 

Then he thought about how Dumbledore had once said that Lucius might have been quite glad to be safely out of harm’s way in Azkaban. Maybe Lucius had really felt he had had to support Voldemort when he returned? That he had had no choice? He obviously knew how evil the other wizard was perhaps he thought he had no other options, that there were no other options?

He had made a lot of wrong choices Harry decided, an awful lot. But he had really suffered for them hadn’t he? The broken man that Harry had seen at the Manor was nothing like the arrogant one that he remembered from when he was younger. Who was Harry to judge after all?

He didn’t think that he would ever have made the choices that Lucius had. He had turned Voldemort down when he was just eleven years old. Of course he had known that Voldemort had killed his parents and Harry had had nothing to lose, he had never had anything to lose had he? So perhaps he couldn’t really judge, perhaps he might have made a different choice if he had had someone to protect? Draco loved his father Harry could feel it and Harry loved Draco. He didn’t need Harry to tell him how stupid Lucius had been, what he had done to his family, they could all see the cost of his mistakes for themselves couldn’t they? Draco had just finished telling him so

Harry wasn’t sure he knew how to be supportive; he had never had a lot of practice at it really. But Harry had been lucky. Look what good friends he had found in Ron and Hermione and now he finally had a family too, with Eileen and Severus and of course with Draco. Harry had felt somewhat in awe of Narcissa, she had seemed so sophisticated, so certain of herself, for some reason her opinion mattered to him. But Lucius did not bother him at all. Harry didn’t know how the senior Malfoy felt about Harry and Draco, but he truly didn’t care. He would not let the other man interfere in their relationship and he didn’t think that Draco would either.

So if he couldn’t stop them being together then as far as Harry was concerned he wasn’t a threat. Lucius Malfoy had been stupid and arrogant but he had paid a terrible price. There was just one man really who had caused all this Harry thought, and that was Voldemort. He was the one that Harry had to stop.

Harry decided that at the Manor he had been weak and stupid. He hadn’t been ready. But next time he met Voldemort he would be.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Draco and rubbed his cheek against Draco’s hair, causing the other boy to sigh gently.

“I won’t let him destroy you Draco,” he whispered, “I am going to stop him and next time we meet I am going to kill him and then it will all be over, for good this time.”

He lay there for a bit longer and listened to Draco’s breathing and Severus’ very gentle snores and Harry thought that he might just succeed in defeating Voldemort after all. That there would be an end to this and slowly, very slowly Harry fell asleep feeling more hopeful than he had felt in a very long time.


	40. Chapter Forty

Hi all, I am posting and running before the Internet goes down again. I am back from my travels and RL has settled again for a week or two. There'll be another chapter later.

Thanks Claudia for being so wonderful!

 

Chapter Forty.

 

The next few weeks passed rapidly and things moved on yet again. They were at Hogwarts of course because of the Horcruxes, they were hidden here. Helga’s cup had been easy to find in the end, but they had waited until Harry was recovered enough to destroy it - no one else had enough power it seemed, although they did try - and destroy it he did. 

Eileen came up with the idea of forming a magical circle to help Ginny during the destruction of the Horcruxes. Each of the participants in the circle lent Ginny magical strength, so that this time when Riddle was summoned from the Horcrux she did not collapse. Riddle grew stronger much more quickly but the circle, with Helga’s cup placed carefully in the centre prevented him from leaving or damaging anyone and Harry dispatched him rapidly with a simple _Dissolvo_. The cup was then taken by Harry to the massive furnace that heated Hogwarts. He had been aided and abetted by an ecstatic Dobby in his quest to dispose of the artefact and together they had unceremoniously tossed the cup into the raging heat, destroying it forever. 

The wand proved harder to deal with. Bill Weasley had taken several days to track down the Grey Lady who had proved most elusive. In the end she would talk only to one person, the last female descendent of her line, Luna Lovegood. The Grey Lady apparently knew that a descendent existed, but not who she was. It took several days and a great deal of research to find out that it was Luna. Ollivander, it seemed, was Luna’s great uncle as he was her mother’s uncle. He and Luna were the last of Rowena Ravenclaw’s descendents - something that neither of them had realised - and Luna as the youngest of the two was the last of the house of Ravenclaw.

Rowena told the elfin girl where the wand was hidden and then they had spent several hours discussing all manner of things that Luna refused to reveal to anyone. Not even to Hermione, who had as usual ended up doing much of the research into the Luna’s family tree as neither Ollivander, nor Luna’s father had had any idea of her links to such an illustrious ancestor.

According to Rowena the wand had been hidden by Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, although the Grey Lady had known that the dark wizard had entered a hidden place, she had not known where the wand was inside the chamber, or even that the hidden place was a chamber as there was some sort of barrier erected at the entrance which she could not pass. Severus heard Hermione tell Harry that she thought that explained why Moaning Myrtle had never followed him and Ron on their horrible adventure in second year. 

Albus had promised that he would seal the Chamber, but for some reason he had not done this, so no spells were needed, no magic, to open the chamber one just needed parseltongue it seemed, just as it had always been. Severus wondered whether Albus had guessed that the chamber would one day be needed again. Not much seemed to get past the old man after all. Harry had been compliant enough about going into the chamber but had appeared reluctant to lead everyone with him and Severus was unsure about why, until he had discovered that the entrance to the hidden passageway was in the bathroom where he had once discovered Draco covered in blood, wounded by a spell that he himself had created, and Harry had used without thought. For the first time in a long time, Harry had not been able to meet Severus’ eye.

He just stood there in the bathroom with his head down, looking ashamed. Draco obviously realised how Harry was feeling because he gently squeezed his hand and whispered. “It’s okay Harry, It was in the past, no permanent damage was done. I was going to cast an unforgivable on you, we were both to blame, we were stupid then.”

Severus had felt somewhat overwhelmed, watching these boys who had once hated each other become a team. Supporting each other more and more as the days went on. Harry leaned on Draco, Draco leaned on Harry and somehow they got through whatever needed getting through.

It made him wonder about himself and Remus. He had finally started calling the other man that, in his own head at least. Severus knew that he loved Remus, had always loved Remus, but in the last few weeks the werewolf had ignored him, avoided him. Finding Remus like that in the graveyard, thinking that he had died, that had terrified Severus, made him realise his feelings. He had just not been ready to have that discussion with the other man, not then. But watching the boys, who had done some pretty dreadful things to each other, see them forgive whatever the other had done, to grow closer, to be forever sneaking off for some ‘time alone’. It made Severus feel a little bit humble. Maybe he would talk to Remus soon, when he came for his wolfsbane perhaps?  
Harry was standing near the ornate sinks in the bathroom, gazing intently at the serpent shaped taps, he slowly began to raise his wand. He still seemed a bit jumpy and was looking around as if searching for someone. 

“Don’t worry Harry, she isn’t here.” Hermione said, “I blocked the pipes that come into the bathroom and put up wards. Not for good, just to keep her out for now. She’ll be able to come back later when we are finished.”

Harry looked hugely relieved at Hermione’s words, and Severus was confused until he realised that she was talking about the ghost again, Moaning Myrtle. Was Harry worried about her for some reason? Did he think that she would tell everyone what had happened the term before? Of course, Harry was horrified by what had happened to Draco wasn’t he? And to think Severus had once thought that Harry didn’t care when he was obviously weighed down by guilt.

There was quite a crowd in the bathroom and it was not that big a space. Most of the Weasleys were there, Hermione, Luna, Neville Longbottom, Draco, Narcissa, Eileen and even Lucius, who could still not seem to be able to perform magic, but who had, true to his words of a few weeks before, done his very best to help and support them all. Poppy was also present in case anyone needed medical assistance and Minerva, because it was now her school after all. Moody, Kingsley, Severus himself and Remus crammed in to the tiny room. Whilst the werewolf glanced at Severus from time to time he did not come over. Severus had been avoiding him so determinedly since that day at the Ministry that it seemed that he had finally got the message that Severus didn’t want to speak to him, ever. Which was quite a shame after all, because just lately Severus had realised that he did want to talk.

But he wasn’t thinking about it now. Not now when Harry needed him. Later, another time, he’d deal with it then.

“It’s alright Hermione, you can let Myrtle come back you know. It wasn’t her fault, what happened. I just wanted to tell everyone myself, those that didn’t know. What I did…”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“You did nothing Harry! Nothing that I wouldn’t have done to you back then anyway!”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand again and turned to speak to the other people gathered around. 

“What this daft prat is trying to say is that he and I had a fight here once and that he hexed me and he hurt me, but only because he was faster than I was, and better!” Draco lifted his chin, when he said this, it had been hard for him in the past to admit that Harry might be better at some things than he was but he was saying it now, and staring defiantly at his father as he did so. Draco had grown up, matured and Severus thought that he was going to be a rather fine man after all.

He was still petulant sometimes, he still cared far too much about his appearance. But he was a great support to Harry and Lucius and Narcissa, he was more stoic about being a werewolf, he tried really hard to be charming to Hermione and Ron and he had never said a word about the fact that he was back at Hogwarts, even though it was obviously very difficult for him. Dumbledore’s portrait had not yet woken, so he had not had to face the old headmaster at least, but there was evidence of Draco’s folly at every turn, around every corner if you knew where to look.

“Harry holds on to too much guilt if you ask me!” Draco continued. “He blames himself for things that were not really his fault and he needs to give it up. The past is over Harry you have to let it go and move on, we have all done things we regret, nobody more than me. But what is done is done, and I am sorry, but I’ll try to make good from now on.”

He was looking at Harry as he spoke, their eyes locked on each other. Draco was apologising for his own deeds too, in front of all these people. 

For a moment nobody spoke. Most of the people there could have no idea what Draco was talking about but they were obviously caught up in the solemnity of the moment.

“Look laddie, I haven’t got all day you know, I have things I have to do. Can we no get on with this?” Moody said grumpily, he was getting irate with all the lack of action.

The spell that they had all seemed to be under for a second or two was broken and every one started bustling about. Then Harry lifted his wand and staring hard at the taps, which were still shaped just like a serpent, he began to speak.

Several people in the room gasped. Parseltongue might not be evil in itself but it had been used that way all too often in the past, and the revulsion that many people seemed to feel was almost ingrained. Severus had heard Voldemort use parseltongue to instruct Nagini, to torture, to punish. Even Severus couldn’t help it; he shivered when he heard Harry’s words. Unfortunately Harry seemed all too aware of the reactions of those squeezed into the room with them, he faltered a bit, but Eileen smiled at him and reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

But Harry had said enough; the space beneath the sink was slowly opening up to reveal an entrance, a way through to the hidden chamber. Bill and Kingsley moved forward and started to incant a spell. They were building steps and in no time at all a stone staircase that went down, down into the dark shadows. 

Slowly, one by one they descended, following Ron, who quite happily led the way, and after passing along a winding tunnel, past several rock falls and dark passageways they entered the Chamber of Secrets. Severus had never been down here and was quite eager to see Salazar’s inner sanctum. Ron and Harry had described what they would find at the bottom of the entrance so it had been decided that Bill and Kingsley would go first, shore up the fallen rocks and make the way easier for them all and then let Ron take over, once it was safe 

Harry did not seem that bothered about getting to the chamber, but he had been there before after all. Most of the others were awed to be entering somewhere that had been constructed by one of the founders so very long ago and barely entered since. Ginny seemed terrified. Even though the destruction of the last Horcrux had gone so well, she obviously had very bad memories of the chamber because she was sobbing softly to herself as they descended and clutching at her father. Not all the time, just every so often, her eyes were wide and she started occasionally at sudden noises or unexpected echoes. Arthur had his arm around her and he was whispering gently, holding her hand, encouraging her. Promising not to leave her alone.

Ron kept up a running commentary as they moved in a little scattered group through the tunnel. Here was where the rock fall had been, here was where Gilderoy Lockhart had tried to hex them.

Molly tutted loudly at that, muttering about what a dreadful man Lockhart had been. Severus seemed to remember that Molly had once raved about the ‘dreadful man’ and how wonderful he was. He thought that Molly’s problem was that she made up her mind too quickly about things and then refused to change her opinion until she truly realised that she had been wrong. It was a typically Gryffindor way of behaving and Severus thought that it explained a lot really. Then of course once her opinion had changed she became fiercely loyal to the new view. Her latest crusade was Harry, she seemed to feel that she had a lot to make up to him – which Severus quite agreed with, and she kept gushing all over him. Harry was totally bewildered and stuck close to his gran whenever Molly was around. Severus suspected that the Weasley Matriarch was a little scared of Eileen

Finally Ron stopped speaking for a moment and then just said simply and rather loudly, his voice echoing round the chamber that he had just entered.

“Fucking hell Harry! I never fucking knew.”

It was Severus’ turn to enter the chamber now and he felt his own jaw drop. There lying in front of them, perfectly preserved, seeming to be only asleep, was the Basilisk. Severus had known that that was what was in the walls, that it was this creature that had threatened Ginny Weasley, had petrified the students in Harry’s second year because Albus had told him. But to finally see it? It was huge, monstrous, unbelievably large and terrifying, even dead like this, mostly harmless and yet Harry had killed it when he had been just twelve years old.

As more and more people poured into the chamber they too seemed to share his reaction, How could they not? If people had been somewhat awed by Harry before how much more so would they be after seeing this? The creature was enormous, it could not have been killed by a twelve-year-old child, it was simply not possible, and yet it had been, it had been beaten, by Harry.

Finally Harry came through the tunnel and into the chamber; he was following Draco still talking to him. They were discussing the possibility of going flying later. Draco was particularly on edge today as tonight was a full moon, so Harry it seemed was trying to take his mind off things.

But then Draco arrived, and like everyone else, his jaw dropped too. “Oh Merlin!”  
Draco said stopping short so that Harry bumped into him. Harry looked around him, seemingly mystified as to why everyone was staring, but then his eyes too alighted on the creature.

“Oh, it’s still here then? I thought it might have decayed or something.” He put his head on one side and stared hard at the Basilisk, then quite seriously asked - “Hmmm it looks a lot smaller than it did when I was twelve, it can’t have shrunk can it?”

 

They spent a lot of time fruitlessly looking for Rowena’s wand. Trying to imagine where Voldemort might have hidden it, finally Harry sat down beside Luna with a groan. Luna had given up some time ago and had taken to watching Severus with his self appointed task of harvesting the treasure of potions ingredients that the Basilisk offered. Harry however had climbed all over the chamber, searched the hidden passageways and the statues which were littered about the room but to no avail, no-one had had any luck at all.

“I’m fed up with this.” Harry said, I don’t know where the heck the bloody thing might be.” Severus looked over at his nephew rather wryly. 

“It is here somewhere you know Harry. We’ll keep looking, the Grey Lady said it is in the chamber so it must be.”

Severus was not actively looking himself, he was as happy as he had ever been, he could hardly contain his excitement. To have such a wonderful potions opportunity as a perfectly preserved Basilisk was an opportunity that Severus had never thought to have. He could barely contain his glee. In fact he could not understand why he hadn’t insisted on returning to the chamber years ago, although of course that would have meant asking Harry for help, Severus would never have been able to bring himself to do.

He had drafted the Weasley twins to help him dissect and preserve the creature. Once it had been cut into, once he had started to dismember it, it would deteriorate rapidly so he was working as quickly as he could. The twins were proving very able as helpers. Severus had never liked them as children, but then he didn’t like children much anyway. He had however always admired their intellect. They were and had always been very bright and right now, with the bare minimum of instruction they were making his job a whole lot easier, even if they did clown about far too much in Severus’ opinion.

Of course it helped that they wanted a share of the creature, it would be immensely useful as ingredients in a myriad of potions and products after all.

“Can I help?” Harry said, “I am getting really fed up with searching and I might be at least able to do something useful for you?” Severus found himself strangely reluctant to accept Harry’s assistance. He and Harry had never got on in potions, which Severus now felt was entirely his fault, but they were doing fine right now and he wanted to keep it that way. So he was quite relieved when Harry had seated himself on a small pile of rocks and began chatting away about this and that. He really didn’t want the boy to do much else.

“What will you do with the skin then Severus?” the boy asked as Severus gently pealed away a thick layer of scales and subterraneous fat.

“I do not know Harry.” Severus replied, “but I do know that Basilisk skin is the strongest material known to wizarding kind. I even have to use a special knife to cut it. This knife is very rare, almost impossible to obtain, any tool used to cut through Basilisk skin has to contain diamond, and elfish diamond at that. Nothing else will work.”

“How come Gryffindor’s sword pierced it then?” Harry asked

Severus regarded him. “It was remarkable that you used that sword, Harry. Because I do not think that anything else would have been successful. Nothing could have gone through the skin in the way that the sword did. It was goblin made, and infused with elfish diamond.”

“ Nothing else can even tarnish this flesh, not even death.” Severus could not help reverently rubbing his hand along the animal’s flank “That is why the flesh beneath has been so perfectly preserved, well until now at least!”

He splayed his fingers on the multifaceted rump and began to rub the skin, ponderingly, brushing the scales with his thumb. “It has more uses than I could possibly say.”

“And the scales are such beautiful colours, Harry,” Luna said, “look at them reflecting the light!”

“Hmmm!” said Harry sounding somewhat petulant. “But I have to do something useful, this is no use! I wish I could just Accio Rowena’s wand and be done with it!”

He stuck out his hand as he spoke and a moment later something came whooshing through the air to settle with a thwap in Harry’s hand. 

It was the missing wand.

Severus’ jaw dropped again. That too should not have been possible. Surely the Dark Lord had put wards on the wretched thing? Maybe he had thought that no-one would ever go looking for the wand down here? Maybe he had warded it? Maybe those wards just didn’t apply to Harry?

Whatever the explanation, the Horcrux was in Harry’s possession, Harry was beaming, delighted by his luck and then with whoop of joy he announced his discovery and rushed off to destroy this artefact too.

Once Severus and the twins, now aided by Luna, had finished harvesting the Basilisk, the members of the Order who had followed them down here stood in a circle, once again they held hands lending Ginny magical strength whilst, as if it sensed her presence, the shadowy form of yet one more part of Voldemort’s soul began to appear from the wand. The object in question lay in the centre of the circle, looking somewhat innocuous, even as it began to glow with an ethereal green light. The newly emerged figure in their midst grew more and more opaque until he was almost solid. The handsome young man that had once been Tom Riddle looked around at them all, puzzled, then he smiled charmingly and looked as though he was about to speak, but no words came, not from him anyway. The words came instead from Harry, and it was just one word after all. “ _Dissolvo_ ” the shade of Riddle opened its mouth as if to scream, but nothing came out, not one sound, instead the figure began to fade.

Ginny screamed. Her knees began to buckle and Arthur broke the circle as he reached out to catch his daughter. Severus felt rather than heard Harry cast _Incendio_. Eileen told him later that as soon as the circle was broken, Riddle had begun to solidify again. But Harry’s spell, his very strong spell caused both the figure and the wand to burst into startling blue flame, which sprang from the wand like a fireball and sent Harry crashing backwards into the wall with the force of the explosion, only to land in a heap, unconscious once again.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

Thanks Claudia for doing the biz! *hugs you* ~ Lucie

 

Chapter Forty-One.

This time Harry was only unconscious for less than ten hours, which was a mere blip on the Harry unconsciousness scale. Unfortunately they were crucial hours for Draco. Draco was to make his third transformation that night. He was inconsolable, and scared at the idea of transforming without Harry alongside him. But nevertheless he remained determined that wanted to be alone this time. He did not want his parents to see him as a werewolf and he did not want to be trapped in with Remus as despite his apparent fondness for the older werewolf he did not seem to trust himself.

However as the hours passed by and Harry did not gain consciousness Draco had grown more and more morose, finally it had gotten late and the boy decided that Harry was not going to wake in time and had headed off to the secure room that had been set aside in the dungeons. Severus promised Draco that when Harry awoke he would bring him down immediately, but Draco did not seem reassured. He left on his own clutching the Wolfsbane potion and what looked suspiciously like one of Harry’s t-shirts. 

This time there was plenty of Wolfsbane potion for Draco and for Remus. But Remus did not come to collect his himself, he asked Draco to fetch it for him and Severus had been unaccountably hurt that Lupin had not bothered to come and see him. Severus had tried to catch the other man’s eye earlier in the bathroom, and then later on when they had carried a once more sleeping Harry to the hospital wing he Severus had almost spoken. But Molly had been there and he did not want to say anything in front of her, so instead had been planning to say something when they were alone. He didn’t know what he was going to say but it really bothered him more than he could say that he would not get the chance to speak to Remus.

Severus was torn, he wanted to stay by Harry again but he felt that he could not leave Draco all on his own this time. Draco had told him not to bother, that Remus had said that he would stay with Draco but that he had wanted to be alone. Narcissa had offered to be with him, if only in an adjoining room, but Draco had made both his parents promise that they would stay away and further more made Severus promise to ensure that they did as they were asked. Eileen had come to the rescue in the end, she stayed with Harry sending Severus after Draco. Severus thought that his mother was becoming increasingly fond of the blond boy; he often caught her smiling fondly at Harry and Draco when she thought that they could not see her. Just as she frequently seemed to be frowning at him when she thought his attention was elsewhere, he wondered whether she knew something about his growing feelings towards Remus. 

Severus reached the door of the cell that Draco had chosen just in time to hear retching noises coming from inside. Draco was being horrendously sick, he was throwing up the wolfsbane potion that Severus had given him. Severus was horrified, he could not understand what had happened, this had never happened before to him, his potions always worked. He ripped open the cell door, making sure to lock it behind him and rushed to the aid of the stricken boy.

Draco looked awful. His skin was grey and clammy his eyes wild with fright, he was clutching his stomach in obvious pain and groaning. He looked up horrified as Severus came into the room.

“What are you doing here?” he croaked, “Severus, you can’t be here! I’m going to change!” But then he was obviously wracked again by pain in his stomach and he fell to his knees with a small yelp. “The moon, the moon is going to change me Severus, please get out!” But Severus couldn’t, he just could not bring himself to leave Draco to go through this alone, not this time. He didn’t think about what would happen when the boy transformed into a feral adult wolf, he just knew that right now Draco looked helpless and broken and he couldn’t leave him alone.

He knelt down beside the boy. Draco was shivering violently he truly looked ill. 

“I’ll just stay for a little while,” Severus said, he cast a cleansing spell to clean Draco up a bit and then wrapped a blanket that lay folded on the bed beside him around Draco’s shoulders. 

“Go now, Severus!” Draco whispered. “The moon!”

But Severus couldn’t leave him, he had failed Harry so often before, he had turned his back on Remus, he couldn’t leave Draco again. Only unconsciousness would have kept Harry away from Draco now, unconsciousness or death and Severus thought that Harry would approve of his actions. Severus was not a hero in the sense that Harry was, he had always had to weigh up every situation. His actions had always been those of a true Slytherin working out what would be the best solution, for himself, for his family and then act. But he had gotten things so very wrong in the past, on many, many occasions. So he was not going to think about the morning, or what might happen when Draco transformed, he was just going to stay with the boy right now and give in to the weird gut feeling that he had, that things were going to be alright, that he wouldn’t be hurt by Draco, and that everything would be okay.

“Please Severus,” Draco whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you, please?”

But Severus simply moved a little closer and wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him close. Draco struggled feebly for a moment, but with nothing like the normal strength that a werewolf could command and then finally, with a small sob of protest, let himself be enfolded in a hug.

 

 

Draco did not transform. 

Severus sat with him the whole night long, curled up on the narrow bed, whilst the boy rambled in a sick delirium and sobbed and mumbled and held tight to Severus and in the morning, when Harry came careening though the door panicked and wide eyed, Severus looked steadily at his nephew and said, “Harry, what did you do? Draco is no-longer a werewolf, you have changed things, what did you do?”

Harry still looked confused, he didn’t seem to know what he was doing, so Severus took out his wand and cast a locking charm on the door and followed it with a confundment charm just to keep everyone away for a while. Severus thought that Draco would sleep a lot longer and Harry must be fine, because unless he was completely recovered Eileen would not have let him come down here however much he might beg and plead and cajole. 

Harry rushed over to them, and threw himself down beside Draco, tentatively reaching out and stroking the blond boy’s hair.

They sat together for a long time, listening to the quiet in the dungeons. The only sound seemed to be Draco’s steady breathing, the occasional wickering noise that he made in his sleep. His fever had broken some time ago and he was curled with his head resting in Severus’ lap slumbering quietly, still covered with the blanket that Severus had draped over him.

In a direct reversal of recent events Harry and Severus watched over Draco for a change, whilst he slept.

“I don’t know Severus,” Harry had answered, eventually after what seemed like hours of thought. “I don’t know. What made you think it was me that made the difference? I haven’t given him a potion or anything like that, I haven’t even licked him for a very long time.

“Why did you stay here? That was a huge risk wasn’t it? How did you know that he wasn’t a werewolf anymore? How did you know Severus?”

“I didn’t know for certain, I just guessed.” Severus replied, “But I think that it was an informed guess, all my years as a potions master. He was not reacting as he should have done. Only those with no lycanthropy in their veins at all would normally be as sick as that. It was a hunch. He was being violently sick, horribly sick, so I just knew that something was wrong.” Severus looked up as Harry made a strangled noise in his throat, a noise of sympathy for Draco.

Harry had reached over and was stroking Draco’s hair tenderly again. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for him,” he whispered, “I’m sorry Draco.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Harry,” Severus said, “it was the backlash from your spell that knocked you out, you were lucky that there was no more damage. When I think of what happened to Albus when he destroyed a Horcrux, you could have been so badly damaged, so hurt. Luckily you seem to be more able to cope with Voldemort’s magic than anyone else does; your magic must be like his, it is compatible perhaps because of what happened to you when you were a baby.”

“Why am I different Severus?” Harry said softly, “why is my magic so different Severus, why am I so strange?”

“Your magic is different Harry, but you are not strange. You are a remarkable young man, who has had to deal with things that would have destroyed someone less strong than you are. I don’t know why you are so different, but I can make a supposition. Would you like me to? 

Harry nodded and the scooted across the bed, to sit beside Severus. He leaned up against him, helping to take some of the strain from his uncle’s back. Severus had been sitting in the same position for hours, supporting Draco and having something, some _one_ to lean against was sheer bliss as far as Severus was concerned.

He thought for a moment trying to gather himself, and then began to speak.

“When the Dark Lord tried to kill you, I think that he somehow formed a bond between you both, he did more than turn you into a Horcrux, he gave you some of his power. But you were already very powerful Harry. I think that even without the extra magic that he gave you, you were already an extraordinarily powerful wizard. Even without the extra boost I think you would have been the most powerful wizard of your generation. You are exceptional Harry. 

“But you had to hide those powers didn’t you?”

He felt Harry nod again

“If you had been brought up in a normal wizarding home, or even in a loving Muggleborn one, what you could do, what you are capable of, would have been welcomed, celebrated. But instead your powers, your very powerful magic was forced to hide itself. You managed to use it in secret, without even knowing you were using it I think, so your magic evolved. It developed in ways that magic does not normally work. It healed you, time and time again did it not?”

This time Harry’s nod was almost imperceptible

“I think it is as if you learned to use magic without consciously thinking about it, because if you did that, if you thought about it then you wouldn’t do it at all, because you were taught that it was wrong. But you couldn’t deny your magic Harry, it is simply too strong.

“You learned to trust your instincts and let them take over sometimes. But then at other times, when you listen to others you think that they must be right and not you, you deny your instincts. But you must trust your magic Harry, you must not deny it, let your magic fly free, it has been suppressed for far too long. 

“Somehow I think, because you have used your magic mostly for healing, that is where it is at its strongest. It kept you healthy, it stopped you from starving, from being ill. I think that it now seeks to heal, like it did with Eileen, and over the years with all the practice that you must have had it has become very strong indeed.

“Poppy once told me that she thought you were the most remarkable healer that she has ever seen, I think she is right, you are Harry. What you have done, your healing powers are absolutely unparalleled. When this is all over I think that healing might well be an area that you should explore.

“I’d like that,” Harry whispered, “I’d like that more than being an Auror I think.”

“Good, then that is what we will arrange for you. Now close your eyes and think about what it feels like when you give free reign to your magic, when you don’t even think about it and then tell me when you have felt that recently when you were with Draco. Because somehow Harry you have cured his lycanthropy and we need to discover how, if you cured him, then perhaps we can cure others too.”

Harry grew silent for a long while and then, eventually he began to speak.

“It is as if my magic knows what to do, and I am along for the ride. It tingles, through my veins and out through my fingers and toes. It teases me, calls to me, it’s like I have no option but to follow it, like when I am seeking the snitch, I am drawn to repair what is broken, seek out decay. I sort of get carried away for a while. But lately it is as if I can direct it a bit better. I can tell it what I want it to do. If I’m wrong, it….”

He paused for a moment, Severus could almost see his frown.

“If I’m wrong the tingle is a bit sore, like an electric shock.” Severus did not comment on this, he, unlike Arthur, knew what electricity was, he knew what Harry meant.

“And Draco,” he prompted gently.

Harry didn’t speak. Severus looked down at him and saw that the tips of his nephew’s ears had turned pink. He was obviously very embarrassed about something.

“Harry,” Severus said, “If you tell me, I will keep the details private, I will not tell anyone, but Draco was dreadfully sick. Wolfsbane is poison to him now. Even more so than it would be for most wizards, somehow something has changed Harry, something in Draco’s chemistry and I need to know what it is.”

Harry sighed deeply. He waited for a moment more and then he began to speak.

“Draco and I, we erm, well we have sex a lot.” Severus could almost feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from his nephew as he said this, so he kept completely quiet and let Harry continue. “Normally, we er, sort of play about a bit, and er, give each other blow jobs and stuff. But sometimes we do a bit more than that.”

Harry became silent for another short while, but Severus did not push him, he just waited patiently for Harry to continue. “We um, we er, have full sex.” Harry said, the words came out in a rush, tumbling over one another and if anything his ears got even redder.

“Normally he does me, but um, er last week I sort of did him.”

Severus had to struggle not to laugh. Harry was so endearingly shy, he wanted to embrace his nephew and tell him that he very much doubted that anything that Harry could say would be new to Severus. He had already given the boy the safe sex talk a few weeks previously so of course he knew that Harry and Draco were ‘doing it’ as Harry put it.

“It was my first time, and he had just had a row with his father and he was really angry. When he came to see me he sort of threw himself on the bed and he said, ‘Harry I think it’s about time you fucked me.’

“He and Lucius had been rowing about all sorts of stuff,” Harry continued. “ Did you know about that?” He asked Severus, looking at him with curiosity.

“I guessed that things were a little strained,” Severus replied, “Lucius has been somewhat cantankerous.

Harry smiled, presumably at Severus’ choice of words.

“I think that Draco’s dad was most upset about the fact that he was a werewolf and that he wouldn’t get work, and nobody would want him. That’s what Draco said anyway. Draco told Lucius that it was his fuc….fault that Draco was a werewolf, but he was really upset Severus. He told his dad that I wanted him, they had a horrible row and the Draco came to see me and said that he wanted me to er, make love to him to prove that I did love him. He said that he didn’t care what his dad had to say any longer.”

Severus felt very sad for Draco just then. The poor boy had been trying so hard and yet he had had several fights with Lucius about the way things were now. Lucius had taken Draco’s lycanthropy very hard indeed. He had long despised werewolves and growing up with Fenrir Greyback as the main example of what werewolves were like it was no wonder that Lucius hated them and had passed that hatred on to his son.

He would have been disgusted by the fact that Draco had become a werewolf, which was of course why Voldemort had had the boy infected. Lucius knew that was probably the case, but his guilt made him hard to live with. And poor Draco suffered most of all Severus suspected. 

Lucius was no doubt hating the fact that he had lost everything, had no power or influence any longer and owed everything he did still have, including his life to a boy that he had once despised . Severus knew that it was more than Harry’s supposed Muggle mother that had made Lucius dislike him so much. Lucius was a tremendous snob and even the way Harry spoke sometimes, with his estuary vowels would have had him wincing. The very thought of what Lucius would say if he heard Harry call him Draco’s ‘dad’ almost Severus smile. ‘Lucius your prejudices are showing again,’ he thought to himself, vowing to have a word with the man sometime soon. Harry had not had the advantages that Draco had had, he had no one to teach him the way that things should be done in the magical world, the correct way to speak, the right way to hold a fork at a dinner party. 

But Harry was a wonderful human being, he was brave and loyal and full of integrity and he reminded Severus so much of the little girl that he had known and loved that sometimes it actually hurt. Harry was Lily’s child, in every way. He was a wonderful match for Draco, and lycanthropy was not the end of the world, Draco would have survived, indeed he would have been absolutely fine with Harry’s support. Not that lycanthropy seemed to be a problem for Draco anymore as far as Severus was able to tell.

Harry had been quiet for a while now, so Severus nudged him gently.

“Harry,” he said.

Harry sighed, deep and long and then he continued.

“When we had sex he was crying, and wishing that he wasn’t a werewolf, he said that his father was so ashamed of him, he was so upset Severus! So I kissed him, and hugged him and told him I loved him and then I was inside him, and it was amazing! I just loved him so much and I wished that I could take it all away. The lycanthropy I mean. I wished I could make it better and it was as if my magic was flying free, then well, I, you know, I couldn’t hold back any longer andIsortofhadanorgasm.”

Severus smiled again. “I see,” he said dryly. “Well Harry, it sounds to me like you have just performed sex magic. Draco is no longer a lycanthrope, not from what I can tell without a much more through investigation. It seems like you may have discovered the cure.”

“Oh no Severus,” Harry said, he sounded absolutely horrified, “I can’t have done, I mean I couldn’t, I couldn’t do that to anyone else! I couldn’t do that to _Remus!_ ”

Severus chuckled low in his throat. “It’s alright Harry, you won’t have to, but what you have told me, it might just help.”

“Oh, well that’s okay then, er, I think.” Harry said.

They sat there for a little longer whilst Draco slowly began to stir, and Severus couldn’t help but luxuriate in the pleasure he felt from the weight and the warmth of his nephew, his own flesh and blood pressed against his side. Not many people even touched Severus, let alone hugged him and to have Harry close to him like this was a wonderful experience. To have someone who seemed to be fond of him, trust him, it woke something in Severus, it stirred deep in his chest and he realised that he loved Harry, he wasn’t just fond of him or proud of him, although of course he was all those things too. Severus loved Harry, like the son he had never had.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

A/N you might need a tissue or two for this chapter! More soon ~ Lucie

Thanks to Claudia and Laylee for the fantastic beta job! I have made some changes since I got this back, so any mistakes are my own.

 

Forty Two

 

 

“I’m not a werewolf any more? Really? Truly?” Draco asked, in complete astonishment’?

“Really.” Harry said. He had dragged Draco off to the tower bedroom, which was supposedly Harry’s, but was shared by Draco, more often than not. Severus had not told the blond boy anything, he had instead merely run some tests and then sent him off with Harry. Draco had just assumed that the soporific that Severus had given him had been so powerful that he had slept through his transformation.

“How?” 

“Well, the other day, when I made love to you, I sort of wished that you weren’t a werewolf any longer. Severus thinks that something about me, about, what did he call it? Something about my ‘life fluids’, is very potent for healing, And because I was wishing very hard that you would be okay, without knowing it I performed sex magic, Draco. I healed you, forced out the Lycanthropy.

“Oh, Merlin!” Draco breathed. “I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it. Is it true Harry? Really?”

Harry nodded, thrilled to see the delight, the joy in Draco’s eyes, and to know that he had made things better.

“Severus says that Lycanthropy is like some sort of disease. It takes over the natural physical processes and reacts to the phases of the moon, but somehow I destroyed it, like I destroyed Eileen’s Cancer, forced it out.”

Draco looked completely stunned. His eyes were filled with tears now and he was staring at Harry with so much love in his expression that Harry almost couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t quite believe it, you know?” He asked. “I’ll never transform again? Is Severus sure?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he’s researching it to make sure, it’s just a hunch for now, but Severus isn’t usually wrong when it comes to potions! He couldn’t help himself, he felt inordinately proud of his uncle right then, he smiled to himself, but Draco was still looking a bit confused, so Harry continued. “He took a sample of your blood, remember? When you first woke up? He says that it is different now, that it isn’t like werewolf blood any longer. In fact, he says that he might have to take more samples, that your blood might even be like a, what did he call it? ‘“The basis for a werewolf vaccine.’” 

 

He is positive that he will be able to do something, using your blood as a culture, to create a potion. I really hope he can, because I would probably never be able to repeat the magic I did. With anyone else I mean.” Harry said, he was anxious to tell Draco that, “I wouldn’t _want_ to(,) you know? 

“I don’t know if sex would still be involved or if it would work without that. I hope it does, otherwise I don’t know what Remus would do now that Tonks has gone.”

Draco was staring at him with a look of what Harry interpreted as a fond exasperation 

“What?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed.

“Harry, I do love you, but sometimes you are so dim!”

Harry flushed, he felt a bit disgruntled at the slight. “What do you mean?” 

“If sex were necessary, Remus would be fine. Haven’t you seen the way that Severus looks at him? Or the way that Remus looks at Severus, too, when he thinks that nobody is looking?”

Harry stared in shock.

“Severus and Remus?” He squeaked

“Yeah, why not?” Draco replied.

“But, but, what about Tonks? She‘s only just died. And they are not _gay_ , are they?”

Draco looked steadily at Harry for a long time, until Harry felt a bit uncomfortable and finally looked away.

They were sat together on the bed, Draco leaning against one of the bedposts and Harry seated opposite him supported by a pile of pillows. Their feet were entangled, but Harry sort of wanted to pull his feet back; he felt really embarrassed and a bit cross. Draco seemed so much better at this emotional stuff than he did, Harry thought to himself.

“Harry,” Draco said gently, “look at me Harry. You’re so fucking sweet, you know that? And I love you so much. Don’t worry about Remus, Harry. Let Severus take care of him. He will, you know. At the moment they are sort of dancing around each other, probably because of Tonks, but they’ll get there in the end. After all, we did.

“And being gay doesn’t count in the magical world, remember? It’s magic which attracts a partner, and I think those two belong together; they just haven’t worked it out yet, that’s all. ”

Draco had started crawling up the bed towards Harry. “But right now, Harry, I don’t want to talk about Severus and Remus, I want to show you my appreciation. I have a lot to thank you for, haven’t I?” Draco was practically purring now. He had reached Harry’s waist-band and he started to undo Harry’s belt. 

“I’ll never transform again? You are sure?”

Harry nodded, already beginning to feel hot. Draco was running a hand along Harry’s thigh, and Harry was getting really hard. “Um, Sssseverus says not! Oh, God!” Draco had his hand in Harry’s trousers and Harry found he couldn’t quite think straight anymore. Draco chuckled evilly and got on with giving Harry the very best thank you that he had ever had.

 

Over the next two weeks, Harry realised that he had never been happier, but, at the back of his mind, he knew that one day soon he was going to have to face up to that fact the he was going to die. Despite what Severus had said about saving him, Harry couldn’t believe that he would live. As far as he was concerned, the prophecy was just too clear, he had to die. _Neither can live whilst the other survives”_

He didn’t want to die, he really didn’t. He loved having a family, being with Ron and Hermione, being with Draco. He loved Eileen, loved that she spoiled him and looked at him as if he were the most wonderful person that she had ever seen, and as for Severus? Severus had been so good to Harry in the last few months, so supportive, almost like a father somehow.

Harry didn’t remember James, he had been proud of him in an abstract sort of way and then ashamed, and now he felt nothing but a sort of distant fondness for the man. 

Sirius he had truly loved. But even at fifteen he had known how damaged Sirius was. His godfather had always been hotheaded, quick tempered, but what had happened to Sirius had been awful. He had spent all of his adult life in prison for a crime that he did not commit, he would have needed Harry to support him, and he would have done it. But Sirius could never have done what Severus had done for Harry. 

Severus was the closest thing to a father-figure that he had ever had. He was surprised at how intense their relationship had become in such a short time. That such a deep hatred had turned to an equally powerful love, at least on Harry’s part. He was truly quite surprised that he wanted to spend time with Severus, that his sarcasm made him laugh, that he felt safe with Severus.

It was wonderful having a family, it really was, but Harry felt like he was living on borrowed time. They still hadn’t found out a way of removing the last Horcrux without killing Harry, even after all these weeks of seemingly endless research.

Hermione thought that there might be a way; she thought that perhaps they could somehow stop his heart, stop his breathing for a short time and then Eenervate him, but Eileen and Severus doubted that this would work. As far as Harry could see, though, there was no other option and in the meantime every other suggestion that was thought up sounded even dafter than the last.

In the meantime, if he was going to die then he was going to enjoy every single moment of whatever time he had left. So he trained hard, with Severus and with Remus, with Moody, Kingsley and Bill. He could fight several of them at once now. He could cast spells silently and he could do these things without a wand.

He tried to spend quiet times with Ron and Hermione, Neville, Luna and Draco too. He sat with his grandmother and flew round the Quidditch pitch and tried to be cheerful and live each moment to the full. 

But deep inside himself, Harry felt uneasy, he thought that something was wrong. Something unsettling was going on and Harry couldn’t quite say what it was, but neither could he completely relax. Things might have gone on like that for a very long time if Harry had not finally gone in search of Hedwig. He had not seen her for weeks, and was missing her dreadfully.

Hedwig was one of the few living creatures that had always been there for him. When he had been on his own at the Dursley’s, lonely and isolated, Hedwig would comfort him, keep his loneliness away. He had sent her to Hogwarts, because he was worried about her about her safety. He thought that Hogwarts was the best place for his beloved owl. She was safe with Hagrid; Hagrid would look after her.

But each time he asked after her, he was told that she was out hunting, or sleeping or away. Harry had had enough; he wondered what they weren’t telling him and why they were keeping his owl away from him. Finally, seventeen days after his unconscious form had been brought back to the only place that he had ever called home, Harry went searching for his owl.

He decided to start with the Owlry, even though he had not found Hedwig there whenever he had gone up there before, and if she was not there this time, he would go in search of Hagrid. Hagrid had mostly rebuilt his home by now. He had Grawp’s help, which had made things easier, but he had been quite elusive since Harry had returned. So Harry told no-one where he was going, he waited until Draco and Ron were engaged in a game of chess, until Hermione was busy researching, until Severus was engrossed in brewing, until Eileen was away somewhere for the day. He went to the Owlry first as he had planned, just in case Hedwig was there. But there were only school owls filling the perches along the walls. 

The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He hadn’t had any owls visit him, not for weeks, no owls, no post and no Daily Prophet. Harry hated the papers and avoided them whenever he could, Severus had told him what they were saying, edited highlights(,) Harry thought with a grim smile.

Then Harry knew what had happened, he knew with a cold hard certainty. Things were not going well in the wizarding world. People were dying and they were not telling him. Harry went in search of his owl and then he went in search of Hagrid, the one person Harry thought who would tell him the truth, or was at least incapable of lying effectively.

 

Severus was brewing when Harry came in to the potions lab some time later.

He had taken a number of different samples from Draco, and he was getting quite excited with the results that he was getting. Draco’s blood really did seem to be different from normal magical blood or werewolf blood for that matter. It was alive with antibodies, very powerful antibodies. If used as the basis of a potion, Severus was sure that would make a difference.

He looked up at Harry when he came in.

“Hello there,” he said, smiling at his nephew, “I think this is going to work, Harry. I think I can make a potion based on the antibodies in Draco’s blood. We may just have created the cure!”

But Harry wasn’t smiling, his face looked infinitely sad.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Severus?” he said, “Why did nobody tell me?”

Severus’ heart sank. 

“Tell you what, Harry?” he asked.

“About the deaths, the disappearances. Nearly two hundred people in the last few months alone, Severus.”

Harry’s voice was strained, his face pale. “I didn’t know. All this time I have been fucking around, people have been dying and nobody said, nobody told me. You kept my owl away; you kept Hagrid away because he might have said something by accident. I didn’t know and you should have told me.” 

“What good would it have done you to know, Harry?” Severus asked.

“You feel guilty enough already, don’t you? How much more can you expect yourself to do? How much more guilt can you carry around? You have been trying your best; you have destroyed three Horcruxes in the past few weeks, you have been doing everything that you could do!”

“Not this week,” Harry whispered, “I have just been relaxing, enjoying myself and people have been dying, Severus! They have been disappearing; they could be being tortured or something! I can’t just sit around any longer!”

“That is precisely why we didn’t tell you, Harry.” Severus took in the misery on Harry’s face and knew he had been right not to say anything; his nephew was quite simply distraught. 

“I never knew about the deaths at Privet Drive. All those people and it was my fault, Severus. They died because Voldemort sent Death Eaters after me! They were totally innocent, they didn’t deserve to die!”

“Does that mean that you do?” Severus asked urgently. “You are an innocent too, you don’t deserve what has happened to you either! You never deserved to lose your parents, to grow up with those dreadful people who hated you so much, who made you feel so badly about yourself. And you did not deserve the way that I treated you either. I was wrong, Harry! But I will not let you be harmed again, I swear it!”

“But it has to be me, don’t you see that? It has to be me that dies!” Harry’s voice had an hysterical edge to it. “I have to. The Prophecy says that, and it can’t be cheated! I don’t want to die, Severus, I want to live, I really, really do. But I don’t want anyone else to die in my place. No-one! All the other Horcruxes are gone now, all of them except me! 

Harry looked straight into his uncle’s eyes, “I want you to promise me something, Severus.”

Severus’ heart clenched, he knew what Harry was going to say even before he opened his mouth. He knew that although he was going to say ‘no‘ and they would fight that in the end he would agree, because Harry would give him no option.

“If we don’t come up with a solution in the next week, then I am going to find him, and I am going to kill him. If he doesn’t kill me, then I want you to do it.” 

“No.” Severus said, as the whole scenario began to play out exactly as he had envisioned.

“You must! There is no other option!” Harry said, his voice was getting louder, he was becoming distraught, “You did it for him, you did it for Dumbledore when he asked you to, you must do it for me!”

“I can’t!” Severus shook his head, “I just can’t!”

“You have to! He has to be destroyed! I will defeat him Severus, I am stronger than he is now, I know I am. I’ll kill him, but there’ll still be a bit of him left in me. It will eat away at me, I can already feel it, like a canker in my brain. He has to be completely eradicated, for good, for ever. My whole life has been about this, Severus, all of my life!” He grabbed Severus’ arm, just where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin and Severus flinched, but Harry wasn’t letting go.

“I can’t do it again, Harry, not you, please don’t make me. He won’t overcome you, you are too strong.”

Severus was sobbing now. He fell to his knees, but Harry still would not let go. His green eyes were flashing with anger, with a fervent rage!

“He might! Or there might be some other way that he could be extracted from me and live again. _Neither can live while the other survives!_ I can’t take the risk. Please, Severus! Please.”

“ _Harry!_ Don’t do this to me, you are all that is left, all I have left of Lily, of myself. Please don’t ask this of me?” Severus’ voice was broken, like his words were being dragged over gravel whilst they were being formed. 

“No one else must die for me, Severus!” Harry’s voice was quiet but firm, insistent. “I don’t know if Muggle ways would work, I don’t know how to do it myself. I’d get it wrong or something, and then he might end up possessing me, If Voldemort had my magic he could rule the world.” Harry’s hand was hurting him, his grip was so tight. Not that Severus minded the pain, he just did not want to yield, not in this. 

“I would die for you, Harry.” Severus whispered, “I will not let you go, I love you like a son. I wish, I wish I had known this sooner, known what you are! That you are Lily’s child, that your soul shines bright like hers did! I cannot let your life be thrown away like this!”

“Oh, Severus!” Harry was on his knees now, beside Severus, his other arm was extended around Severus’ back, almost as if he were trying to shield him, and those green eyes of his, Lily’s eyes, were boring into Severus’ own. Seeking his surrender.

“This _is_ my life.” Harry said, desperately. “This is what I am here for! Please Severus, it has to be you.”

His grip became even tighter, “Who else could do it, Severus? There is no one else. Who could I ask? Ron? Hermione? Draco? Eileen? It would destroy them!”

“And what do you think it would do to me, Harry, to have to kill you? It would destroy me too!”

“I know.” Harry said, “I know and I am so very sorry, but you are the only person that I know will do it, that I trust to do it anyway. I need to know that he cannot come back, not ever. He is too evil; he has destroyed too many lives already. No more, Severus, there can be no more deaths for my sake.”

“We could wait?” Severus said in desperation. “We could try later, when he is gone, when you’ve killed him!”

Harry shook his head. “I couldn’t do it then, not in cold blood. It has to be in battle, at the heat of the battle, you can tell everyone that we killed eachother, him and me, then you won’t have to answer any questions. Everyone would accept that I think.”

“I’m impressed, Mr Potter. You have actually tried to think this through, though not very successfully I might add! It does make a change for you, using thought instead of action does it not?” Severus sneered. He tried to stand up, but his legs felt rather shaky and Harry’s arm was still wrapped around him, his hand still on Severus’ arm. So he contented himself, with staring coldly back at Harry. “I do not appreciate you trying to embroil me in this madness, there has to be another way! Once the Dark Lord is dead we will have plenty of time to explore the possibilities, we will find a way of destroying the Horcrux then, so do try to curb your impetuosity!” He was trying to get Harry angry, get him to back off, storm out perhaps.

But Harry gave a short laugh. “That won’t work on me any longer, Severus. I know you too well now, I know you are trying hard not to say that you will do what I ask, that you will kill me. I know that you never break your promises. Once you have agreed to kill me, you will not go back on your word and I need you to promise me this.

“Besides, I don’t think I could go through with it later. I might not have the courage, once it is all over, I’ll want to live too much.

“And he might take me over, each day that I allow him to exist makes that more of a possibility.”

“No!” Severus gasped. “You are too strong Harry, your soul is too pure, there would not be a chance of that!”

“Oh there would be! I can feel him already, a darkness, seeping into the edges of my thoughts. I am the last Horcrux, Severus. I’ll be his only chance of survival. He wants to survive. I will not let him do that by using me.”

Harry had pushed his forehead against Severus’ own. Resting his head there, still staring into Severus’ eyes with a burning intensity.

“No more deaths instead of me, not Ron, not Hermione, nor Draco, nor Gran and not you either, Severus, not you either.”

Severus nodded. He couldn’t speak; it was as if someone had rammed something cold and hard down his throat.

But Harry had sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you.”

Severus put his arms around Harry and held him close. This boy whom he had come to love so deeply.

“I will try everything else first.” Severus finally managed to say. His voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else, someone who had not spoken for many years, who’s vocal cords had been rent in two and roughly repaired. “Everything, Harry! And you must do as I say. “

“But if there is no other option, you will kill me?” Harry demanded, his words muffled by Severus’ chest, but still all too clear to Severus. 

“If there is no other option, then I will.” Severus said, and as he spoke the light of hope that had been shining in his soul went out, and Severus felt nothing but the very deepest despair.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

Thanks to Claudia and Laylee. You are wonderful ladies!!!

 

Forty Three

Harry felt awful about what he had said to Severus, what he had forced him to agree to do. But he had needed to do that, had needed to extract that promise. He didn’t feel like a teenage boy any longer, he felt as if he were a thousand years old.

If Harry had to die, the only person he trusted to help him do it was Severus, even if it was more than the man thought he could give. He would do it, Harry knew. He trusted Severus completely and knew that he would do the right thing, even if it destroyed him. 

He was deeply sorry for what he had had to ask Severus to do, but he had no option. Voldemort had to be destroyed, even if it meant that Harry had to die too. Harry was sure that he would be the one to kill Voldemort and not the other way around; after all, Harry _had_ killed Riddle three times in the past weeks and a number of times in the previous years. But he had to ensure that no part of the evil wizard existed any longer, not even buried deep in Harry’s soul. He just could not take the chance that somehow, someday Voldemort might come back. However, the more time dragged on, the less Harry thought that there was any chance for him to have a life afterwards. Regardless of how much he might long for it. It was meant to be this way Harry thought. He had always been fated to die and his whole life had been lived on borrowed time.

He had given Severus a week, given them all a week, to come up with a solution; something that would enable the small piece of Voldemort’s soul to be extracted, leaving Harry free. But nothing had happened, no-one had any ideas or suggestions that would conceivably work. They simply could not try something on the off chance that Harry would only die temporarily, that they could bring him back. Harry was the only one who could kill Voldemort, he could not die before then. 

Harry had finally come to terms with the fact that he had to die. Over the last week he had treasured every moment he spentwith his family, _his family!_ and friends. But it still made him deeply sad to see an increasingly desperate Severus, frantically searching for some other solution. He wanted to speak to his uncle, to say that he was sorry for what he had put Severus through, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t take it back. If he had to die, if Voldemort didn’t kill him, then he wanted it to be Severus. Harry trusted him more than he had ever trusted anyone before. Severus had protected him, to the best of his ability, even when he hadn’t liked Harry very much and he had saved his life on numerous occasions. In the past few weeks, Severus had become the closest thing to a parent that he had ever known, or ever would know, and the fact that Harry had had to upset him hurt. 

He spent a lot of time with Draco, too; things seemed easier for his boyfriend now that Draco was no longer a werewolf. Harry didn’t know how he was going to tell Draco what he had planned. He wasn’t sure how he would tell anyone else, for that matter.

But he knew that the rest of them would be fine. He thought Eileen would be a bit upset when Harry died, but Severus would comfort her, and she would stop Severus from despairing, would show him that he had done the right thing. He planned to tell his gran about Severus and Remus. He had been watching them since Draco’s revelation and he now knew that Draco had been right; there was something going between those two. Eileen would sort things out.

Ron and Hermione had each other, and apart from them and Severus and Eileen there really wasn’t anyone else who would miss him, really. Other than Draco, that was. Harry knew that he was being selfish by not telling Draco the truth about his plans, until the very last moment, but he loved him so much and he didn’t want him hurt before it was necessary. Nor did he want to spend the last week of his life arguing with them about something which had to be done. Tonight he would have to tell everyone, Draco, his friends and Eileen that he was planning to fight Voldemort and hope that Draco would be looked after, when Harry didn’t come back from the battle. He hoped that they wouldn’t all be too upset. 

Voldemort had not tried to get inside Harry’s head since the Ministry debacle, but Harry could still feel him, on the edge of his consciousness. Tomorrow Harry would search him out. Tomorrow it would end. 

He had spent a lot of time alone, in the past few days, making plans in his head about how he would surprise Voldemort. But he also tried to just drink in the atmosphere of Hogwarts, enjoying the crisp autumn days, simply enjoying being alive, flying on his own for hours a day, enjoying the light, the space, the freedom

Harry also spent a lot of time as a lion. It was so peaceful to be like that. He felt safe as a lion, strong. He wanted Severus to take as many samples from his Animagus form as he could, stock-pile them so that when Harry was no longer around he could continue to heal. That struck Harry as a fitting legacy. Even when he was dead, people would still be made well, and Severus strived to help him, to store vial after vial of precious fluid, despite his own very obvious distress. Sadly there was nothing at all that Harry could do to alleviate that, though he wished with all his heart that there was. 

He seemed able to sooth the rather strained atmosphere that had developed over the past week though and he did that by purring. The deep vibrating sound became like a soporific to most people, and he couldn’t help himself when he was in lion form, he often purred with pleasure. He loved being a lion; everything seemed so much simpler like that.

And maybe he had learnt more than he realised from Severus, because one day when Hermione told him, after a particularly long period of Animagus transformation, that lions didn’t purr, Harry had simply replied that this one did, because it was a magical lion and kept on purring as he always had.

Lucius Malfoy sought Harry out one morning just to thank him.

Severus, true to his word, had not told anyone exactly what Harry had done to cure Draco; just that it had been because of a unique set of circumstances, that Harry had been able to perform a fluke spell. But he also told everyone that he was working on a vaccine, using samples of Draco’s blood as a base solution. Severus spent every moment that he was not searching for a solution working on the new potion - when he wasn’t driving everyone to search for a key to the Horcrux issue that was! Hermione had been in tears several times that week and even Luna had been perturbed by Severus’ fierce temper. Draco was helping with the potion, seemingly driven to help others who had suffered what he had. Harry spent as much time as he could with his uncle, with or without Draco’s company; he needed to be near Severus, even if his uncle could barely bring himself to look at Harry. He was sad that the atmosphere between them was somewhat strained, but how could it not be, really, after what Harry had asked Severus to do?

Harry had been flying his Firebolt all morning when Lucius found him. He had needed to lose himself for a while because the days were going by too quickly and he had just a few hours left before he went in search of Voldemort. He had decided to go in the small hours, when everyone was asleep, just him, Severus and his invisibility cloak to keep Severus safe and hidden. They would sneak off before anyone was awake and very soon it would all be over and Harry could rest knowing that everyone was safe.

But sometimes, Severus’ sadness and the reactions of the others made him need some space. No one else really knew what had gone on between himself and Severus, anymore than they knew what had really cured Draco. Severus unsurprisingly really could keep a secret, Harry thought. He couldn’t, however, hide that he was upset about something, he could not help being snappy with Harry, and indeed with everyone else. So everyone wondered and gave them both a wide berth.

Harry had been out for more than an hour, flying in wide circles spiralling up and down, chasing eddies and had finally just landed when Lucius found him.

“Harry, I wanted to see you,” he said smoothly. “Do you have time to discuss some things with me?”

Harry looked at him coolly. He thought that Lucius was under no illusions about how Harry felt about him. In the last few days, things had definitely been better between Lucius and Draco. Ever since Draco had been cured, Lucius had looked so much happier. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked less worried, less stressed, and the arguments between father and son seemed to have completely disappeared. Malfoy senior had thanked Harry very formally in front of everyone at dinner the evening after the full moon. But Harry hadn’t known what to say to him in return, he could hardly explain _how_ he had cured Draco.

“I need to change first,” Harry said, “but if you wait till after that, I would have some time.”

Lucius nodded and sat down stiffly on the bench outside the changing room until Harry had showered and changed into his sweatshirt and jeans. Then he sat down beside Draco’s father and waited to hear what he had to say.

“You are going after him aren’t you, Harry?” Lucius said, “You are going to fight the Dark Lord.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked in surprise, “Did Severus say something?” 

“No. Severus it seems, has never shared his secrets with me; I just assumed that you were preparing yourself for something like that. Over the last few days you have changed somewhat, become more distant, like you are preparing for battle. I…I do know what that feels like.

I know that I have hurt you in the past; I have been very, very naive. I believed someone who made promises that he had no intention of keeping. I was greedy for power and I really didn’t care who got hurt as long as my goal was fulfilled. I have had a lot of time to ponder my foolishness, my stupidity. 

“I find it very hard to meet my son’s eyes these days.” Lucius continued. He was not doing a very good job of looking at Harry either; instead, he was staring at his hands. “He is a much better man than I am, he thrived when he was away from me. He dealt with the Dark Lord, and tried to keep his mother safe. He was very brave about the Lycanthropy, far braver than I was, and he seems to have been a loyal companion to you too. 

“He has made me very proud, and I think that I have you to thank for many of the changes in Draco; you and Severus. Severus kept him safe for all the time that the Dark Lord was pursuing him, wanting him dead. But you took him in; you defended them both and gave them a chance.

“I can never repay you for what you have done, but I can thank you and I wanted to tell you that I will help you in any way that I can. I owe you a great deal. I owe you my life, my wife’s safety and the fact that my son is no longer a Lycanthrope. Whatever you need that I can give you, just tell me.” 

Harry stared hard at the man, trying to judge his sincerity. He looked so much like Draco in some ways, but very different in others. He had Draco’s silver eyes, his white-blond hair and that rather superior expression that Draco had sometimes. But his face was still drawn, his skin grey. He had spent far too much time in dank, dark places, Harry decided.

He still didn’t like him very much. Harry thought that Lucius Malfoy was a man who had been given far too much, who had taken things very much for granted and who had never had to suffer before. But perhaps he was beginning to change? The things that he had admitted to Harry were things that the old Lucius Malfoy would never have admitted to himself, or anyone else. And Harry had never been someone who could hold a grudge. 

He held out his hand, just as he had to Severus all those weeks ago. Malfoy looked shocked, but he took it, he took Harry’s hand firmly in his own and shook it.

“Will you look after Draco for me?” Harry said tightly, “He hates being lonely, he needs to be loved.”

“I will never take my son for granted again, Harry, I promise you that. He is a man who will make his own decisions and I will support him with whatever he needs.” 

For a moment they simply sat there, the two of them. Not looking at eachother. Harry felt bone weary, defeated. Lucius sat beside him, his clothing immaculate, his hair groomed. Once upon a time, Harry would have felt shabby in comparison, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore, very little mattered now. 

“I have something for you,” Lucius continued, his voice was low, almost as if he did not wish to intrude upon Harry’s thoughts. “Draco found it when you were brought here, he was given the task of packing your things and he found this broken at the bottom of your trunk.” Lucius had taken a package out of the capacious pocket of his robe. He held it out to Harry and Harry took it. “Draco wanted to do something for you and he recognised the crest on the back. _Toujour Pur. The Noble and Ancient House of Black_. He didn’t know what to do with it, how to fix it. But Narcissa did.

“She had to wait until a waning moon to repair it, but she did it last night. I wanted to bring you something to show my appreciation of all that you have done for us, and Draco gave me this. He told me how much you cared for your godfather. I….I am more sorry than I can ever tell you about my part in his death.”

Lucius had stopped speaking but Harry hardly noticed. He held the package gently, as if it might break again if he even held it too tightly; because of course he knew what it was. How often had he sat up late and cradled this in his hands, still wrapped in an old t-shirt? How often had he wished that he had had this before he had gone rushing off to the Ministry?

Slowly, gently, tentatively, Harry pulled back the brown paper that was wrapped around his prize. He had not looked at it for more than a year. The mirror that he now held in his hands, but here it was, unbroken once more. As whole, as perfect as it had been when Sirius had given it to him. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, “Thank you for everything, Mr Malfoy.” Then he stood up, and without looking back, made his way quickly and quietly back to Gryffindor Tower.

His room was empty. There was no trace of Draco and Harry assumed that he must be with his uncle, putting up with Severus’ foul temper, as he was so keen to find the cure for which they were searching.

Harry sat down on his bed and looked sadly at the object in his hands. Almost without knowing what he was doing, Harry lay down and pulled his feet up, curling himself into a foetal ball on the red coverlet.

Suddenly, his memories were awash with Sirius. Recently, Harry had had trouble recalling his godfather, what he’d looked like. He could remember Padfoot, but Sirius’ face was overlaid with someone else. When Harry remembered his godfather he saw Severus instead, but now, with the restored mirror in his hands it was almost as if Sirius were restored too. Image after image assailed him and he held the mirror close against his chest. “Oh, Sirius,” he whispered, “I am so sorry.”

The room was warm and totally still. Nothing moved, not a sound could be heard. Harry had slept so little in the last week, he had lain awake for night after night, thinking, planning, hoping. But now his eyes grew heavy, his breathing grew deeper

Harry dreamed.

He was in a thick mist, just like the one at the graveyard, the one that was full of Dementors. But this was different, it felt safe somehow, as if he were covered by a fluffy blanket, safe.

Then he heard it. A voice, distant, far away muffled, distorted, but discernable; clear enough.

“Harry, Harry. Are you there, Harry?”

Harry started peering into the mist.

“Sirius?”

Was he imagining things? Was the thought of Sirius stirring up memories?

“Sirius?”

The voice was really, really soft now. As if someone had turned the volume down on a TV, one that was playing in another room. Harry had to strain to hear what was said.

“In the mirror, Harry.”

Harry gasped. The mirror was still gripped tightly against his chest, he could feel it in his dream, see it in his hands.

He looked down at it and saw a familiar face smiling up at him.

“Hello, Pup!”

“Sirius, oh my God!” Harry said. His eyes filled with tears, he had to choke back a sob and couldn’t help but sink to his knees in the dream. He brought his hand up and gently ran his finger along the frame

The face that grinned at him seemed younger and healthier than Harry had ever seen it. He was grinning up at Harry and his lips began to move, but Harry heard his voice as if it was in his head.

“You are looking bloody great, Harry!” Sirius said, “All grown up!”

“Oh, Sirius, I am so sorry…” 

“Shush, Pup, no time for that now. You have to come to me, Harry, you have to come here.”

“Come where?” Harry asked, “Come to the veil?”

“Yes, Harry, we need to get him out of you. He must be destroyed, come behind the veil.”

There was a wailing, a roaring, like thunder in his head. Harry screamed and sat up with a yelp. His head hurt, his scar was throbbing in a way that it had not done for a very long time. The pain was so severe that he could not see properly, but he grabbed the mirror that he still held tightly to his chest and peered into it intently. “Sirius?”

All that Harry could see was mist, thick and swirling. Opaque.

“Sirius?”

Something moved, deep in the mist. Harry could not see it properly but it looked for all the world like a huge black dog.

“Severus!!!” Harry yelled. He leapt off the bed, nearly falling in his eagerness to get to his uncle, and still clutching the mirror tightly in one hand, he rushed downstairs to the dungeons.


	44. Chapter Forty-four

Thank you to my darling Claudia for betaing.

A/N Again sorry about the long time between posts! RL matters have been pressing, not leaving a lot of time for writing. The next chapter will be up later. It took sometime to get the next chapter right as Draco insisted he wanted it be from his point of view! Thanks for all the reviews I apologise for not having time to answer them individually right no *winks at Stella Dubh for knowing that lions don't purr* ~ Lucie

 

Forty Four

 

The entire room hummed with tension. Everyone had been arguing for what seemed like hours and Severus’ head was throbbing with pain. The afternoon’s revelations had shaken them all. Eileen was white and trembling and Draco looked as if he might be sick. Everyone, except Severus, had argued with Harry at some point or another and he was currently pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in Minerva’s office, looking pale and tense.

“Don’t you see?” Harry was saying, “This could be my only chance!”

“Your only chance to do what Harry? To die?” Eileen said quietly. “I don’t want you to die, none of us does. There has to be another way.

She looked at her grandson, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.“Someone else could fight him, it doesn’t have to be you.”

“Who else would you choose Gran?” Harry asked softly. “Severus? Draco? Ron?

“If I don’t come back from behind the veil, then someone else _will_ have to kill him, but I’ll have done my best to stop him. I’ll have given whoever tries to finish him off a fighting chance. He won’t be immortal anymore. 

Harry looked around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes, “Nobody else can do this bit, it has to be me. Can’t you see that?”

“But it doesn’t have to be now, we could wait a while. Someone else could kill him and then we could get rid of the Horcrux later on, there would be plenty of time then.”

She was saying just the same things that Severus had said; the same arguments were being trotted out and Severus knew it was hopeless. Harry wasn’t going to give in, and the worst of it was, that deep down Severus knew he was right. This was Harry’s battle and he did have to fight it. There really was no-one else.

“But Harry, you are still a child!” Eileen wailed

The look that Harry gave her was infinitely sad.

“I’ve never been a child, Gran,” he said, “I’ve never had a childhood, and these few short months have been great, having you and Severus in my life. But they haven’t been real!” He walked over to his Gran and gently cupped her cheek; he used his thumb to tenderly wipe away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered.

He turned away, back to the fireplace. He could not stand still it seemed to Severus, he had too many emotions churning inside him, too many emotions that he did not know how to handle.

“I wish Severus could have found out about us earlier, that we could have had more time. That would have been really great!” Severus’ heart lurched; a wave of guilt hit him, stronger than he had felt for years. Over the last few months he had come to see Harry Potter in a whole new light. Fleetingly, in his mind’s eye he saw a much smaller Harry, smaller even than he had been when he started Hogwarts, wearing clothes and bruises that were far too big for his thin frame, and he wished that he had a time turner in his possession, that they hadn’t all been destroyed. 

He saw himself rescuing Harry, taking him from that dark little cupboard to the light warm welcome of Eileen’s home, it could all have been so different if only he had known.

He _had_ known for years that Albus had had a plan for Harry. Had watched resentfully as Albus had seemed to adore and over indulge his ‘Gryffindor Golden Boy’. But that had been the old Severus. Looking back now he could see that Albus had treated Harry the way that children who have a terminal illness are treated – not that there were many of those in the Wizarding World. Magic kept them safe from childhood illnesses that were common amongst Muggles, Harry’s talent for healing was just an exaggerated version of the natural abilities that all magical children displayed. But Albus had known hadn’t he? He had known that Harry was a Horcrux and, assumed that Harry would have to die, in order for Voldemort to be defeated, he must have he must have had his suspicions at least. He had treated Harry the way he had out of guilt.

Guilt for the way he had been abandoned to abuse at the hands of those wretched muggles, guilt that he had to keep sending Harry back there year after year to keep him safe from Death Eaters. Guilt because he thought Harry would never see adulthood. He had been trying to make things up to Harry hadn’t he?

 

In Severus’ opinion Albus had got it all wrong. Even if none of them had known about Harry’s connection to Severus and Eileen, Harry should not have had the childhood that he did; something surely could have been done for him, to make his life easier. No wonder Albus had still to awake in his portrait, he was too ashamed to face them all.

“You are wrong old man!” Severus muttered, under his breath. “We are not going to lose him. We are not going to let him die.”

No-one heard him, they all still had their full attention focussed on Harry, Harry who seemed so distressed. Not because he thought that he was going to die apparently, but because everyone else was so upset. A development that Harry had seemingly not expected.

“I wish that things hadn’t been the way that they were,” Harry said, not able to look at his grandmother as he spoke. “I wish that you and Severus had talked earlier, cause you would have come and got me wouldn’t you?” When Harry spoke so hesitantly he sounded like the abandoned child that he was. If they had known, if Severus had known, he would have moved Heaven and Earth to take Harry away from the Dursleys.

Eileen just nodded. She couldn’t speak, her mouth, like Severus’ stoppered with the bitter taste of regret.

“That didn’t happen though, Gran,” Harry continued, “and now I have to destroy the final Horcrux and then I have to go and kill Voldemort. _I_ have to, it is what I am for.”

Eileen stood up and grabbed Harry’s hand. Anger dominated once more and freed her tongue. Her eyes were flashing, they were not the vibrant green that her grandson’s were, they were a deep, dark black, but when she was angry they were almost as bright with emotion as Harry’s

“No! No Harry it is NOT what you are for. I’ll not allow it!”

If anything Harry looked even sadder.

“I am so sorry Gran,” he said. “Thanks for caring, but you know as well as anyone about the prophecy, you know what it says.”

Earlier in the summer Harry had shared Trelawney’s words with them all, they all knew the prophecy now. 

“It doesn’t have to mean what you think it means, Harry.” Eileen said urgently, it just means that you cannot live properly whilst he is still alive, that’s all. It doesn’t mean that you have to die.”

“I know that, Gran.” Harry replied, he had stopped pacing now and was looking straight at Eileen. But I do have to face him, and before that, for there to be any point to it, I have to destroy the last Horcrux.”

“But we could wait, Harry.” Eileen argued, once again, just as Severus himself had. “There has to be a way of destroying it. We can’t risk on this crazy adventure, not because of a dream!”

She turned on Severus now. “How can you encourage this Severus? How can you even allow him to attempt to try something like this? I trusted you to look after him and you have let me down! You should have said no. He would listen to you! I am ashamed of you Severus! Harry is too precious! I need him!” The last sentence was plaintive, right from the heart. Severus felt his mother’s words twist inside him like a knife.

“I have to let him, Mother. There is no other option save one; this is so much better than the alternative.”

“What alternative Severus? What could possibly be worse than this?”

Severus could not speak. He closed his eyes and a few bitter tears leaked out, burning against the tender skin beneath his lashes.

“Gran!” Harry exclaimed. “That was not fair!” Severus could not believe that Harry was defending him, standing up to Eileen for him “Tell her Severus,” Harry said, “tell her what I forced you to promise me

But Severus shook his head tightly; he could not say the words.

“Tell her!” Harry hissed

Severus turned to look at Harry. Their eyes met. Harry were flashing, blazing at the unfairness of Eileen’s accusations. He looked at his nephew as he spoke. Knew that both of them had reached an understanding so deep that it could hardly be explained.

They were closer than uncle and nephew Harry and he, almost closer than father and son for that matter. They were comrades too, brothers in arms. They had been fighting side by side in battle for seven years against the same deadly foe. They may not have always liked each other, or trusted each other come to that, but when it mattered, when it truly mattered, they had never let each other down.

“He made me promise that I would kill him.” Severus whispered, still looking at Harry, still holding his gaze. “After Voldemort was dead, I was to take Harry’s life, destroy the final Horcrux,”

“No!” The word echoed from a dozen throats simultaneously

“At least this way there is a chance. A chance that it will be all right. A chance that he will survive. I have never liked his mutt of a godfather, I have hated him since I was eleven years old, but I know he would not hurt Harry. If he has communicated with Harry somehow, told him to go beyond the veil, then he wants to help us; he is offering a way out.

“But you said yourself that it could have been a dream!” Hermione spoke this time. “Harry was fooled before, fooled into going to the Ministry, when Sirius died. This could be another trick.”

“Yes, Miss Granger it could, but you forget who else suffered by that trick, Sirius Black himself. If Harry says it was a vision then that is good enough for me. He is the one with the experience after all. And the mirror, there should be two, the other has never been found.”

“Sirius always carried it.” It was Remus speaking this time, “after he gave its twin to Harry, he was never without it.”

“You knew about it, Remus?” Harry said. 

He sounded broken. His voice was cracked.

“Of course I knew Harry. Sirius told me that he was going to give you the mirror that had belonged to James.” He didn’t finish his sentence, Harry had gone completely white.

“He didn’t tell you what it was for did he Harry?” Severus asked.

“He did,” Harry whispered, “he wrote me a note, but I forgot about it.”

He saw Remus’ face become nearly as pale as Harry’s. 

Remus was staring in horror at Harry, he realised as Severus had, that Harry must have forgotten about the mirror until after it was too late and so he still blamed himself for Black’s death, that much was evident.

“It was not your fault, Harry.” Severus said. He wanted to tell the boy that he carried around far too much needless guilt, that he could be expected to have remembered everything but Eileen interrupted him

“So Harry’s godfather could still have it, on the other side of the veil?” she asked

It had obviously not been lost on her that there was more going on right now. That something had happened that she knew nothing about. But maybe she also realised that Harry was getting very wobbly, that she thought, as Severus did, that the boy could not take much more tonight.

“I think that Black does have the mirror,” Severus said. “I presume that he is not fully able to communicate with this world even though both mirrors are now working, but he managed to reach Harry when he was asleep. He could somehow contact him when his mind was resting, when he was dreaming, wandering on the edge of consciousness.”

“So you are sure that there is no possibility that it could be Voldemort?” Hermione spoke again.

Severus’ eyes met Harry’s again, their silent communication continuing. Harry straightened his shoulders and he seemed to gather himself. They hadn’t said anything about the burning pain Harry had suffered right after having the dream. Severus truly believed that Harry’s dream or vision was true. Harry had often had visions in the past hadn’t he? He had to believe that what Harry had told him was true. He felt another huge pang of guilt, this time it was because he was allowing Harry to go ahead with this crazy scheme. But at least it was a chance. A chance that Harry wouldn’t die and that if he did…….if he did, it wouldn’t have to be Severus that killed him.

The last week had been like a waking nightmare for Severus. He had barely slept; no if he were honest he had not slept at all. He had searched frantically for something, anything that would get him out of the task that Harry had set him. He had torn the library apart seeking an answer. Sneered and snapped at everyone and desperately tried to finish the Lycanthropy potion while Harry had still been alive. By this evening he had been desperate, frantic and Harry’s appearance in his lab had been like the answer to a prayer.

He knew that what Harry was planning to do was a mad, typically Gryffindor escapade. It might not work, hell it probably wouldn’t work! But at least it was a chance. Harry seemed to have an uncanny knack of surviving against all odds after all, he had done it time and time again.

He knew that he was like a drowning man, grasping at any help that he could. But Harry’s instincts were good and Severus was going to do his bit by ensuring that Harry was as safe as Severus could possibly make him and at least it had given them a day or two longer as he had managed to convince Harry not to act rashly. To wait until they had found some way of getting him back from behind the veil.

Severus spoke again; voicing what he had been thinking

“These arguments are completely futile. I do not want Harry to do this, any more than you do. But there is no other option. I do not like this idea of Harry’s.” He allowed himself to sneer, “it is too reminiscent of any number of foolhardy Gryffindor schemes that he has been a part of in the past. I cannot prevent him from going on this quest. But I can do my utmost to keep him safe, to bring him back! And that is what we need to be working on, planning. Not berating him.

“To fight the war is not Harry’s choice, but it is his responsibility, however much we might wish it was not the case. It is what it is. He must do what he believes to be the right thing. And we must support him, and find a way to bring him home.”

Severus allowed himself a wry smile. “After all despite my dire predictions about his fate in the past, he is still here. He is not dead yet. I think that our Harry has very sound instincts.”

Severus’ eyes met the boy’s eyes once more. This time they were wide with shock. He had not expected such support from Severus it seemed. Severus nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Harry saw the gesture and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“Aye Sevvy, you’ll have your way in this, you both will.” Eileen’s accent thickened along with her evident sorrow. “I don’t like it. It makes me right angry in fact. But I’ll not fight you anymore. I’ll do whatever we need to keep him safe. What do we need to do any road?”

They had sat down around the table then and held what Eileen had called a “council of war.” Everyone trying to come up with ways of getting Harry beyond the veil and back again. They got nowhere. Not for hours. Not until Hermione mentioned the Muggle activity of “potholing” 

“What the fuck is “potholing?” Draco had been the one to ask the question. He had been getting more and more agitated as the evening had worn on. It was obvious that he did not want to be here whilst everyone discussed aiding Harry to embark on one of the most dangerous stunts that he had yet undertaken. But as he had placed himself beside Harry and held his hand in a deathlike grip it was also obvious to Severus that he wasn’t going to go anywhere without Harry.

“My cousin Chris does it.” Hermione said in a matter of fact way. “It is also known as vertical caving. On a very steep descent potholers wear a harness which is attached to a rope and secured at the other end. Harry could wear something like that.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous!” Draco sneered, determined it seemed to be belligerent. “A rope would never work. Going beyond the veil would almost certainly destroy it!”

Ron Weasley seemed to be getting agitated too now, Severus supposed it was because of the harshness of tone that Draco was using towards his girlfriend. He opened his mouth to try and forestall the animosity from rising, because the last thing that they needed right now was for another argument to develop. But in the end he didn’t need to speak at all.

Luna was sitting opposite Harry and Draco. She seemed to spend all her time with the refugees from Grimmauld Place right now, her beloved father was off hunting yet another of his bizarre imaginary animals.

“I think we could make a rope and harness out of something that couldn’t be destroyed.” Luna said.

Draco whirled on her – he really did seem to be in a mood right now! “What do you suggest Loony?” He sneered, “Fairy floss, spider’s webs?”

Harry opened his mouth, he seemed to be about to say something, but Luna was completely unperturbed by Draco’s rudeness.

“Oh no, Draco!” She answered, “Fairy Floss is nowhere near strong enough and even Acromantula web would probably dissolve. I think that you should use something that cannot be tarnished, not even by death.” She looked directly at Severus as she spoke and her face broke into a wide smile as Severus breathed the words,

“The Basilisk!”

It had not taken long for the cured basilisk hide to be taken from Severus’ lab, where he had stored it after they had removed it from the Chamber of Secrets. They laid it out in the Great Hall as it was the only place, even in Hogwarts, that was big enough to unroll it properly.

There was more than enough to make miles of rope should they so wish, but they would need to cut it into strips. Eileen had suggested they plait it as well, to further strengthen it. She had procured a number of diamond edged knives to help with the cutting and shortly afterwards several house-elves had appeared, seemingly determined to do their bit too.

Harry had seemed surprised to see them and had wandered over to talk to them. But Eileen had headed him off.

“You need to get to bed lad.” She said, “you have a very busy day tomorrow.” Her expression was very grim as she spoke, no one could have any doubt how Eileen felt about the next day. She was certain that the rope would not take that long to make, and Harry was determined to make the journey as soon as he possibly could. She understood that and she was no-longer fighting Harry, but that didn’t mean that she had to like the fact that her grandson would once again face incredible danger.

Harry looked to be about to protest, but Eileen forestalled him, “I think Draco needs some sleep too, Harry,” she said, gesturing at the blond boy with her head.

They both walked over to Draco, who was standing in a corner, away from the activity with his head down and a look of misery on his face. She handed Draco something, a potion Severus guessed and he watched as Eileen spoke briefly to them both for a moment or two. Both boys nodded and then she embraced them before Draco grasped Harry’s hand and led him unresisting from the room.

She made her way over to Severus then. “I hope you know what you are doing, Son.” She stared into Severus’ eyes with an unnerving intensity and then handed him his diamond bladed potions knife. “Come on, we best get to it!”

Severus followed her across the room, to where a team of people and elves were already cutting away at the skin, which had been spread out on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Most of the teenagers had gone to bed already, but Luna was still awake, she was sitting with one of the elves, apparently teaching it to plait. It was the elf that had once belonged to Barty Crouch and it was gazing at her in adoration.

Severus sighed.

It was going to be a very long night.


	45. Chapter Forty-five

Thanks to Claudia for betaing! 

A/N This chapter is from Draco's point of view, which one of the reasons it took so long to write. This was meant to be Harry musing about recent events but Draco is a stroppy little bugger and wanted his say. So with no more ado..... ~ Lucie

 

 

Forty Five

Draco was watching his Gryffindor sleep. He looked so young, so peaceful when he slept. Tonight he was undisturbed by the dreams which sometimes plagued him, thanks to the very liberal dose of dreamless sleep that Eileen had made him promise to drink. Of course she had also made Draco promise to drink some as well, but Draco had had no compunction at all about lying to her. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, not if he could help it.  
.  
He reached out a hand and gently touched Harry’s cheek. Harry sighed and wrinkled his nose and Draco almost smiled. He had spent so much time over the past few weeks watching Harry sleep. This felt familiar, it felt safe.

Draco’s world had been far from safe recently; it had been turned upside down, in the last few months especially. In fact the whole of the last year had been hellish for him, the loneliness at Hogwarts, the impossible job that The Dark Lord had given him, failing to kill Dumbledore. 

Then being on the run, desperately trying not to be caught, wishing that he could have accepted Dumbledore’s offer. And then…then _Greyback_ , Draco could not bear to think of that. If Snape hadn’t been there he would probably have been killed. Draco revelled in the fact that Severus’ spell had been messy and bloody and the werewolf had died screaming in agony. 

Thank Merlin though, he had been there and despite his distaste for Draco immediately afterwards they seemed to have come to an understanding in the last month or so which Draco knew was essentially due to Harry. He felt closer to his godfather than he had done in a very long time, he even to his surprise. felt proud of all the man had accomplished, for it could not have been easy to remain an undetected spy for so very long. He had saved him and taken him to Harry and Draco knew he could never thank him enough for all that he had done. 

Draco had thought for such a long time that his life was over. He had been desperate, frantic. He closed his eyes when he thought of the first transformation. The pain had been unbelievable, it had been agony. But he would never have to endure it ever again now, thanks to Harry. 

Harry Potter! Who would have thought that he would come to love him so much? Certainly not him. He had thought that he hated Harry, had thought that he wanted to see him suffer. But that really was not the case. When they had gone to Harry’s Muggle home, he had expected, well he didn’t know what he had expected, but certainly not what he had found.

Seeing Harry broken as he had been had terrified him, appalled him. The disregard, no the cruelty, with which Harry’s relatives had treated him. He reached over and gently stroked Harry’s hair again. Needing to reassure himself that Harry had indeed survived. Harry didn’t stir. The dreamless sleep potion was doing its work well.

Draco thought he would never forget the smell. That was almost the worst thing. Seeing Harry broken and bloody had been bad enough. But the sickening odour of blood and vomit that had hit them when Severus first opened the cupboard door had been almost too much.

Draco had been really frightened that day. He had hated Harry, no he had hated _Potter_ , Potter the golden boy, Potter the hero. The one who beat him at Quidditch and always seemed to win at every thing he tried, well except for potions, and Draco could now admit that Harry had never really been given a chance at that particular discipline. The last year, the whole of the last year Harry had seemed to sail through without any worries. But now he knew Harry, Draco understood that this was not really the case. Harry worried about everything! He just didn’t show it and didn’t tell anyone because he had never had anyone to tell.

Not until now. He wondered what it must be like to have been alone your entire life unloved and uncared for. Then to be hated and adored for something that you didn’t even remember, having to stand by whilst people celebrated something that was your greatest tragedy. Yet despite all of this, Harry loved so well.

The ratty little room that Harry had obviously slept in, Draco had never seen anywhere as shabby as that. Yet for Harry that had been normal hadn’t it? Draco had had a paradigm shift that day, the day at Privet Drive. He had been feeling desperately sorry for himself, sad and lonely and very scared. Then they had found Harry and his whole world had become upended and changed beyond recognition. When Harry had leaned against him on that mean little bed, Draco had felt how thin he was, how insubstantial the hero of the wizarding world was. He was far too slight, too damaged, Draco had thought. It was surely too much for one slender boy to be the object of the passions, both hatred and love, that he aroused in others. 

Draco had been sure that Harry would crumble that night, but he hadn’t. He had conjured his magnificent Patronus, one that Draco had not seen properly before, as he had been under a pile of borrowed robe the last time he had made its acquaintance. He had seen right then how mean and shabby his trick in third year had been as the glowing silver stag lit up the sad little room with an unearthly glow.

Then he had defended them to their rescuers, before succumbing to unconsciousness and nearly dying.

Draco had fallen a little bit in love with Harry that night. He had found that he admired the boy who refused to be beaten down by cruelty. So he had gathered up Harry’s few possessions, which had been stowed, somewhat pathetically under a grimy floorboard and had felt proud of himself for the first time in a long time when he had finally been able to return them to their owner. A little enough favour but one that had assumed huge importance to Draco, as it was the first time since he had started at Hogwarts that he could remember doing something that was completely for the benefit of someone else.

Harry had had a childhood without love or affection or even regard and yet somehow he had grown up to become the man he was. He gave love and loyalty so easily.

Despite what had happened to Draco in this last year, having seen a glimpse of Harry’s life, he supposed that he was lucky. At least his parents had always loved him.

And now they were back. 

His mother seemed so much stronger that she used to be. Often when he was a child she had deferred to his father, but she did that no-longer. These days she spent time with her sister and they talked of all that they had missed. They talked of Dora and of Draco’s childhood but never mentioned the years of estrangement. He wondered now and then what it would have been like to grow up with his bright haired cousin around to play games with. She had been kind to him too, in the dark days at Grimmauld Place. She hadn’t been around much, but she’d made him a cup of tea once. She had spilled the milk and used far too much sugar but he hadn’t minded, it was the thought that counted after all.

Dora had told him once that his mother was unharmed and would come back safe, though she hadn’t said how she knew that. Her voice had carried a soft authority and so he had believed her and she had brought his mother home, fulfilling a promise she had never really made.

He had truly grieved for her when she died. But he could not regret his mother’s return, having her back was balm to his soul, even if he had nearly lost Harry over her. He would do anything for his mother, but almost losing Harry had shown him how much he loved the other boy and Narcissa had given her blessing. She had changed beyond all recognition this summer too.

Andromeda looked at him with eyes filled with grief whenever she saw him and he wondered once or twice if she wished that it had been him that had died instead of her Dora. But she never voiced that thought. She smiled at him instead and bid him to watch over his mother.

Draco had had a lot of rows with his father over the past few weeks. The initial euphoria that he had felt when Lucius had been rescued had long since evaporated. Draco had always felt that he had been a disappointment to his father. Never clever enough, not able to beat Mud… _Muggleborns,_ funny Draco couldn’t even think that word now, though he had used it often enough in the past.

Without his father’s influence Draco had begun to form his own opinions. Hermione was indeed one of the brightest witches that Draco had ever known, and she had been kind to him. When he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place and everyone had been so worried about Harry, she had spoken to him, reassured him when the others could barely bring themselves to look at Draco. How could he hate her after that? And Dora, his father had kept her away too with his hatred and his prejudices hadn’t he?

He looked at his arm in the near darkness. The mark that he had once sought had become a source of deep shame. He had wished time after time that he had never taken it, but he’d wanted to be like his father. He’d thought that taking it would keep his mother safe. But that hope had been still born. The Dark Lord took Draco on for one reason only. He set him up for failure so that he could punish his father through Draco and make him suffer, make them all suffer for nothing more than a madman’s whim. 

Lucius Malfoy, the father that he had admired for all of his life was diminished now. He had been wrong, deluded. So many of the things that he had taught Draco were erroneous. The fact that Dumbledore was a fool, that Muggleborns were worth nothing, that the Dark Lord was a great and glorious leader! Well actually to be strictly honest Lucius had not told him that. He had tried to keep Draco away from the evil wizard. But once he had been incarcerated the Dark Lord had demanded to see him.

His mad aunt Bellatrix had taken him there for the brand, yet one more hideous chapter of his life that he would rather forget!

Harry had never commented on his Dark Mark, except once to say that Severus had told him that the marks had faded when Voldemort had been defeated before. Harry had no problems saying that name, but it made Draco cringe to even think it, he just hoped that his hideous tattoo would fade like Severus’ had when Harry won for good.

“You will win, Harry!” Draco said into the darkness, “you have too.”

Lucius seemed so broken now. The spell that the Death Eaters had cast on him made him desperately allergic to magic. Any spell, even a cleaning charm directed at him, would have him screaming in agony. Severus was hopeful that eventually Harry might be able to help him but he would have to be completely acclimatised to Harry’s magic first, hence the copious use of potions that contained Harry’s magical essence. Draco refused to think that Harry might not make it just so that he could one day cure his father, he truly did not care whether Harry could cure him or not; he simply wanted his lover to stay alive. To win, to come back to him safe and whole.

He had taken no potion, but his eyes felt heavy. He closed them and sighed deeply. He didn’t think that he would sleep. His thoughts were flying madly about his brain, like a snitch evading capture.

He thought of the first night that he and Harry were together. Draco had been frantic that evening. Severus had promised to tell Harry about his lycanthropy, but he had not. It had been up to Draco in the end. He had been terrified, sure that a disgusted Harry Potter would send him away. But he hadn’t. The rough sympathy and the warm bed that Harry had offered had felt like a benediction.

He snuggled against Harry’s warmth now. The nights were getting cold and Harry seemed to need less clothing, fewer covers than Draco did, he radiated heat and energy.

He put his hand on Harry’s chest and spread his fingers wide, savouring the warmth; the soft skin and then he pressed his cheek against his hand and lay there listening to the steady thump of Harry’s heart.

Harry had made love to him tonight.

Their coupling had been frantic, desperate. Draco had lay on his back and wrapped his legs about Harry, pulling him close as if he wanted him completely inside his skin. Although still full of love, Harry’s eyes had been bleak and worried. Usually when he looked at Draco it was with tenderness, with such awe that Draco often felt his own heart still. The way that Harry looked at him, he could not mistake that he was loved. Loved with a passion so deep, so all encompassing that sometimes it truly frightened him.

Harry loved Draco with the same sort of reckless abandon that he did everything and Draco couldn’t feel truly worthy, but neither could he turn such love away. He was Slytherin to the core. If Harry Potter wanted to love him, he was not going to refuse; however unworthy he felt. But he was also going to love Harry in return with everything that he had and give him the care and the understanding, the appreciation and the support that he had not known as a child.

He couldn’t think about what life would be like without Harry now. He meant too much to Draco. He was everything. He had made Draco promise that he would run for safety if he did not come back from beyond the veil, but Draco could not answer him. He couldn’t make the false, empty promises that he had made to Eileen. If Harry didn’t come back, Draco didn’t want to live. 

For a moment it was as if his heart stopped, he felt like he was giddy with grief with and with fright. “Please don’t take him from me.” He whispered, though he couldn’t have said whom he was talking to.

He thought of the things that Harry had done for him. The Animagus transformation that had seemed like a miracle, the kiss that had nurtured his own Patronus, the other kiss, the one in the Ministry that had told the world that Draco belonged to Harry. Things had been so much better since then. People probably did still hate him, but they kept it to themselves like a dirty secret.

“You mustn’t die, Harry.” Draco breathed the words into his lover’s flesh like a charm.

In his sleep Harry mumbled. He turned and wrapped his arm around Draco, almost as if he had heard, though of course he had not. He nuzzled Draco and Draco’s eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall. He would not cry for Harry. Not yet. Because Harry was not going to die. He was going to return from the veil, triumphant as he always did and then he would kill the Dark Lord.

Draco stifled a sob. The darkness surrounded them, thick and heavy, just a little light fell upon the bed, seeping in through a chink in the curtains, but oh it was so black elsewhere in the room, he did not want evidence of his fear to be released, to hide amongst the shadows.

He was not even going to think that Harry might not come back, because such thoughts could be dangerous, tempting fate. Fate was not having his Harry, he wouldn’t allow it!

It was too much to ask of Harry, Draco thought. That he should be the one to go out to face the most evil wizard who had ever lived, one who thought nothing of murdering innocents to fracture his soul. Draco had seen the Horcruxes now. They stank of corruption, no one but Harry could have carried around a fragment of such evil for so many years and yet be so uncorrupted. Anyone else would have been surely swamped, but not his Harry.

Harry sighed in his sleep and his breath ruffled Draco’s hair. Draco felt a shiver chase down his spine and he trembled, only to find himself wrapped even closer to his lover’s heart.

“I love you.” Draco said. His voice deadened in the cold, dark bedroom. “I love you with all of my heart.”

He thought about casting Tempus, to see what the time was. But really and truly he did not want to know. Tomorrow would be the end. He knew it, Harry knew it. Whatever happened tomorrow at least it would be over.

He screwed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, but not against the darkness this time, he closed his eyes against the light and he prayed as hard as he could, that the morning would never come.


	46. Chapter Forty Six

My darling Claudia, I do not know what I would do without you right now! Thanks for all your wonderful help.

A/N There is a cliffie at the end of this chapter but I really can't help it right now because of where we are in the story. I will try and have another chapter up in the next few days ~ Lucie

 

Forty-Six

 

Harry had been stunned by everyone’s reactions the night before, He had known that people would be not like his decision but hadn’t thought for a moment that they would be so upset. He knew now, with an awful clarity just how much they cared about him. Despite the fact that they had all told him so and, had spent the last few months trying to convince him of this fact, Harry had never quite believed them. Not until last night, when it had been so evident that it simply couldn’t be denied.

It had truly been easier when nobody cared about him. Oh he knew that Dumbledore had, but Dumbledore’s affection had always been tempered by his rationality. The headmaster had made the decision to sacrifice Harry, long before he came to Hogwarts, probably long before he was born come to that! And while Harry had grown to realise that Severus had come to care about him, but he had never known just how deeply Severus cared, until he had seen the relief on his uncle’s face when Harry had offered him a possible alternative to their pact.

Then there was Eileen. She had looked destroyed! And Draco! Harry hadn’t known that people could look like that! And he was only telling them that he _might_ die.

All of his life, _all of his life_ Harry had never really mattered to anyone. He had been hurt so many times as a child, nearly killed so many times at Hogwarts and no-one had ever been this distressed. Was this what things might have been like if he had known about Eileen before? If his parents had lived?

This was horrible; hurting so many people. Harry absolutely hated hurting others.

But he truly had no alternative as far as he could see. Voldemort was growing stronger again. Killing more people as each day passed and Harry could not have that on his conscience. As he had snuggled in bed next to Draco he had wished that he could take the other boy and they could just run away, leaving behind the awful, crushing guilt that he felt over hurting everyone. Draco had remained upset all evening and even making love had not really calmed him down.

Oh he had pretended. Draco was good at occlumency wasn’t he? He had once told Harry that. But Harry didn’t need Occlumency to read Draco’s every emotion, his every fear. He thought about the day before when he had asked Lucius Malfoy to look after Draco when he didn’t come back. He had naively thought that Draco would be fine, if Harry didn’t make it, upset for a while but ultimately he would be fine. Harry knew better now, Draco really needed him didn’t he? And Eileen and Severus. He was stunned by these new realisations.

So Harry took with him to the other side a bucketload of guilt for hurting those who cared about him. But how much worse would the guilt be if he did not go? The phrase ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ had never seemed so apt.

 

The whole order had accompanied him to the Ministry. Seemingly unwilling to be parted from him, right at this moment he was standing before the veil with all his friends and family gathered around him. It felt weird, it felt bizarre. Harry had always been alone before, or at the most accompanied by some of his friends. But this time he had an audience of adults of fully trained witches and wizards ready to support him on his journey.

He was wearing a harness which crossed over his chest and was formed out of a single long rope made from Basilisk hide. The knots had been tied by Hagrid and Harry had fleetingly wondered whether they would ever come undone, even if he did come back. The other end of the exceedingly long rope which lay mostly in coils on the floor of the chamber in which they stood was wrapped several times around Hagrid’s shoulders and torso. He was to be Harry’s anchor in this world and if he were worried, or if anything seemed to be about to hurt him he was to give it three sharp tugs and then Hagrid would to pull him back. Otherwise he had nine minutes. Nine minutes to rid himself of Voldemort’s fractured soul, find Sirius and come back to them all. That is what they had agreed.

There was much speculation about what Harry would find when he got to the other side of the veil. Nobody really knew what lay beyond the ragged curtain or if Harry would be able to breathe once he had gone through, if he might die on the other side. Muggles could live for maybe as long as three minutes without taking a breath. Some, if they had had lots of practice could hold their breath for longer. But Wizards could do without air for much longer, for nine minutes in fact. So that was how long he had, how long they would give him. He hoped it would be enough

Harry looked at the anxious faces around him. He wasn’t alone any longer, people would worry about him, they wanted him to come back, they needed him to come back and he didn’t want to admit it to himself, but Harry was scared. He had never had anyone to think about before, so it had cost him nothing to rush headlong into things. But everything was different now.

So he looked at the portal through which he was to pass. The muslin-like strands of ethereal cloth which waved in a breeze that could not exist, in a room with no windows, no direct entrance to the outside world. 

It was now or never, Harry decided. Everyone was waiting, hardly breathing, for this to be over and there was only one person who could make it so. 

He curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath, just for a heartbeat he closed his eyes and then squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Harry walked forwards through the entrance and beyond the veil.

 

There were voices in the mist. He had heard them before hadn’t he, he and Luna? They were muffled, indistinct, almost like a radio that was not properly tuned in. Harry didn’t know if that happened to wizarding radios or only to Muggle ones.

The mist was thick, impenetrable, worse than the one at the graveyard had been all those weeks ago. But this mist wasn’t cold, it was warm, muggy, cloying. Harry shuffled forward. He couldn’t really see anything. 

Except. 

Was that something up ahead? A dark shape? Several? Fleeting. There one minute and gone the next.

He reached down to check that the Basilisk rope was still tied around his waist, it was comforting somehow to feel it there. His eyes were wide open, almost as if he were staring though there truly did not seem to be anything to see. The staring felt involuntary, more the result of the fact that he didn’t seem to be blinking than because there was anything to look at. His chest rose and fell with the breaths that he had hardly even noticed for a moment or two. So he could breath here after all? Perhaps there was a chance, an outside chance that Sirius was alive. Was there food and water here? Could magical people live without sustenance? 

A voice seemed to whisper close to his ear and Harry jumped, he whirled around he couldn’t see anything behind him either now the entrance had gone! Harry’s breathing started to increase. Oh fuck, where was the way out? He would never find his way back! 

Then he remembered the rope.

The rope that was still attached to Hagrid. He breathed a sigh of relief and touched the rope once more tentatively

Was this what it had been like for Sirius, this panic? Being totally enveloped in the pale, all encompassing mist?

He stretched his hands out in front of him and found that he could hardly see his fingers, the mist was too thick. His head had begun to ache, to pound. But he could not go back yet, he couldn’t.

“Sirius?” his voice carried no weight here, no substance. It was swallowed by the mist. Fog was like that wasn’t it? He remembered reading that somewhere. That’s why ships had foghorns. Harry thought of Oliver Wood playing the bagpipes in the graveyard and half wished that Oliver were here now. The thought that his godfather might be in this empty whiteness somewhere was something that gladdened him because it made him feel less alone and yet made him feel deeply sad all at the same time. Sirius had been here a long time now hadn’t he? Poor Sirius all that time wandering alone, he hadn’t had much luck had he, Sirius Black? That shining young man in those old photos that Hagrid had given him. 

The Marauders, so young and full of life, so hopeful for a wonderful future. He was becoming maudlin and wondered if it were the mist doing that to him

Harry tried shouting his godfather’s name again. Louder this time, only to have it swallowed in thick soupy whiteness.

“Siri…. Ahhhh!” Harry gasped. A twinge of pain in his scar, worse than any that he had yet felt brought him to his knees, he groaned and tried to pant through the agony. And there was no doubting that it _was_ agony.

“Harry!” Harry tried to look up to see where the voice had come from but he could barely see. Bright lights were flashing across his sight, blazing like fireworks before fading rapidly. Someone was standing above him, close to him. He reached out a hand and grasped fabric. Soft and well worn.

Felt himself being pressed into a solid warm body, a familiar and much missed body.

 

“Sirius?” Harry said, gasping through his pain. “Sirius?”

“Oh Harry! Fuck it all, Pup, are you a sight for sore eyes!”

Sirius was stroking his hair running strong fingers across his forehead as if trying to soothe the pain.

“Push him out Harry!” Sirius said, “You have to push him out!” 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His head felt like it might explode. The pounding had grown worse.

He groaned. Clutched at Sirius

“Hurts, Sirius! Help me. What……Aghhhh! Oh fuck!……..what do I do?”

“You have to push him out, Harry! He is trying to take you over, possess you. Don’t let him Harry.”

Harry was panting now, curling up on himself. The pain! Oh God! It was worse than anything that he had ever felt and Harry knew pain, intimately. .

“Use your magic, Harry, push him out with your magic!”

Harry screamed. His vision was swamped with light. He twisted in Sirius’ arms, clutching at his godfather, wailing in total agony. Etched on his retina was a bolt of lightning. His scar. It was all encompassing, swallowing him in white hot agony.

Harry felt like he was being totally subsumed.

Somehow he reached deep inside himself and grasped at the shining essence that was his magic. It slipped away, once, twice, and each time it was more difficult to find again, ever more elusive, as the brightness began to fade and his vision was instead flooded with darkness. A darkness that was evil without mercy.

Harry screamed again

It was Voldemort. His twisted soul trying to force Harry out of his body, trying to take over.

Fight him Harry!! For fuck sake fight him!”

But Harry was drifting, floating, loose. In the mist there was no pain. There was comfort there Now that he was letting go his vision changed and he could see figures in the mist. Hundreds of them, gathering round. They were pale, they lacked colour, but each one was different, each one a human soul. Harry could see Dumbledore, Tonks. He could see Lily and James. He began to smile, to relax and move toward them

“HARRY!” It was Sirius’s voice, tinged with fear and desperation. He clearly wanted Harry to do something. Harry wrinkled his brow, trying to remember what it was that Sirius wanted, wondering why Sirius was refusing to just let him sink into the mist. Another even more heart wrenching cry from Sirius and Harry knew, like a revelation of sorts, that his godfather wanted Harry to fight, to not give up.

Harry thought of all those waiting for him on the other side of the veil. Draco, Eileen, Severus. He couldn'’t leave them, it would be too cruel, they needed him, he had to go back. Grabbing onto the loose connection he still had with his body he took a deep breath all the way to the heart of himself, grit his teeth and slammed back into himself with all his strength.

The pain was immense. Worse than ever. But this time Harry had a firm hold of his magic. He took it into his heart with that last breath, deep inside of him. His heart beats echoed around his head, bounced back at him from the mist and with each beat, magic flowed through him, along with the blood. Pumping through him, through his veins, burning, scourging, chasing away the darkness.

And then he was screaming again.

Harry felt like he was being bathed in molten fire. Like this terrible, unrelenting agony was all there is, was and ever would be. Harry felt as though he was being swept away by the flames.

Then it was done.

The pain, the darkness was gone.

 

 

Harry gulped in air. Sucking the mist deep into his lungs and then choking. Sirius was rubbing his back as Harry sobbed his relief into his godfather’s chest.

“You did it Harry! You expelled the bastard!”

Harry looked up. The mist seemed thinner. It was drawing aside like a curtain on a stage. Harry curled against his godfather, chilled all of a sudden.

There was a young man standing before them both. Tall and handsome. But his features were contorted with fear. Because all around them there was the sound of unearthly wailing. The figures that Harry had glimpsed just moments before were descending upon the figure in the mist. They were tearing Tom Riddle apart. each taking a small piece, ripping, shreading whilst they howled their joy, almost but not quite drowning out the agonised screams of the tortured soul against whom they were seeking vengeance. 

Harry hid his face, which was shining with tears. He did not want to see this. But Sirius watched and Harry sensed rather than saw the look of triumph on his godfather’s face.

Then Sirius pulled him up and lay an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “You did it Harry! He has gone. Look!”

So Harry looked. The mist was drifting back, the thickness returning. It was like seeing calm water after a swirling morass. 

“Wwwhat was that?” 

“They were some of Tom’s victims, taking revenge.”

“Is it always like that? Every time I killed a part of his soul did that happen?”

“I have no idea,” Sirius said, “I didn’t witness the other times. But I doubt it some how. He was corporeal this time.”

“Would that have happened to me? If he had won, pushed me out.”

Harry looked up to see his godfather’s face for the first time. His eyes hurt, they were tinged with red and the light was blinding but the sight of Sirius’ face was like a balm.

Sirius stroked his cheek.

“Nah! They would have welcomed you, Pup! You’re the good guy!” He peered closely at Harry. “Your eyes are blood shot though. That was some battle you fought!”

He began to stand, helping Harry to his feet.

“You look fucking fantastic otherwise though! Sirius held him at arm’s length so he could look him up and down. His hands remained on Harry’s shoulders though, almost as if he didn’t want to let Harry go. “You’re all grown up!” he said trying to smile. His eyes glittered with tears though and he blinked them away. He was so much smaller than Harry remembered. Like the Basilisk, Sirius had gained epic proportions in Harry’s mind. But he was just a man wasn’t he?

“I’m sor…” He began, but Sirius placed a finger on Harry’s lips

“Shhhhhh! Oh no you don’t, Harry. Let it go kid! It’s okay.”  
“But Sirius, it was my fault!”

“No, kid. It wasn’t. It was my fault for being so reckless! I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. It is me that should be sorry, not you.”

“But I am not alone now, I have lots of support!” Harry assured his godfather

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius replied.

“How?” Harry whispered, “how do you know?”

“I see you sometimes, catch glimpses through the mist. It is lonely here, but sometimes there are flashes of life,” Sirius stared ahead, looking beyond Harry, “they keep me from despair.”

“What happened Sirius? Have you been here ever since…..?”

Sirius looked at him again.

Ever since I fell through the veil? Yeah. I’ve been wandering though, and mostly it hasn’t been too bad. Sometimes I catch glimpses of you, and sometimes of those who have crossed all the way over. Like Lily and James and Regulus. But I seem to be stuck here. Not quite dead, but not alive either.

“Come back with me?”

Sirius smiled. “Can’t do that kid. Can’t go back. My life is over; I’d be in the way now, anyway there is no way back from here, not for me. I’ve been here too long.” 

“Yes there is!” Harry screamed, “there fucking is! I’m not leaving you. I’m not losing you again! Not again, Sirius!”

All at once the rope around his waist tightened and Harry started to move backwards.

“No!” He pleaded, “not yet,”

But Sirius was smiling, “S’okay kid, when you’ve got to go.” His smile turned sad and his eyes started to glisten with unshed tears. “Have a nice life Harry, and don’t ever doubt that you made me so proud.” He let go of Harry’s shoulders and the tugging on the rope around Harry’s middle grew insistent. 

”No!” he said, “I won’t leave you Sirius!” His feet were sliding backwards and Harry was desperately trying to dig his toes in, get some purchase. But how could he fight against Hagrid’s strength?

The mist was thickening and Sirius began to disappear, Harry saw him lift a hand as if to wave goodbye.

“NO!” 

Harry’s cry was hysterical, it was a scream of despair, from somewhere, Merlin knew where Harry found some extra strength. His limbs felt like jelly, he was weak and shaking from his recent battle with Voldemort but Harry lunged forward, he lunged into the swirling whiteness and grabbed onto Sirius’ robes. He wrapped his arms around his godfather and, buried his head in Sirius’ neck. He wrapped his legs around the man too and instinctively, involuntarily Sirius hugged Harry back. 

Harry was flying backwards now, faster and faster, being hauled back to the other side. 

To life. 

He didn’t know what would happen, he didn’t know if he would make it back, if he could take his godfather with him, or at would happen on the other side. But Harry didn’t care, he had to try, so he held on to Sirius with all the strength that he had. He wasn't letting him go again.


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

Forty-Seven

 

Thanks to my darling Claudia who practically co-wrote the last two chapters. You are wonderful my dear lady do you know that?

A/N another cliffie I'm afraid, but the next chapter will be up soon. 

 

Harry had looked so small as he plunged into the portal that stood starkly in the centre of the room that Severus wanted to go after him, call him back, _pull_ him close and then run away. The shoulders that were squared just before Harry walked determinedly forward were too slender for the burden that had been placed on them, Severus wanted to protect him.

“Harry wait!” He had not even realised that he was going to call out until he had already done so. But Harry didn’t appear to have heard, he was gone. Swallowed up by the veil.

Eileen gave a strangled sob and sank down to sit on one of the benches that were arrayed all around them.

Severus’ eyes strayed to the hourglass that Arthur had turned as soon as Harry entered the veil. It stood on the floor beside the structure and Severus wondered how angry Harry would be if they pulled him back before the last grains of sand had filtered through it. They had agreed to give him nine minutes, which was the maximum time a wizard could survive without air. If Harry died on the other side of the veil, then there was still a chance they would be still able to revive him after nine minutes, with minimal chance of brain damage. It was the best that they could do.

Severus had not slept for well over a week now and last night they had all sat around talking, examining what they were planning to do, looking for any hidden pitfalls. Everyone, apart from Harry and Draco that was. No-one, not a single person, had been able to sleep. They went over the same ground, time after time, until nothing new could be said at all. It was almost as if, so long as they had plans, contingencies for their contingencies, if they covered every eventuality, that they could somehow keep Harry safe. But of course they could not. There were so just so many things that could go wrong, so many things about the veil and the Horcruxes that they didn’t understand. 

This had to be the most foolish thing that Harry had ever done! Severus was furious with him, furious with himself and the entire situation. He could barely stand still and started to pace, back and forth across the tiled floor.

Molly was sitting beside Eileen, with her arm wrapped around the older woman’s shoulders. It was a mark of how dreadfully upset Eileen was that she was allowing the other woman to comfort her. They had been getting on better in recent days, but they still had their moments. Minerva joined them. She said not a word, she simply laid a hand on Eileen’s arm and sat beside her, silently.

Luna was sitting as close to the veil as she could, her head was on one side, as though she was listening to something that no-one else could hear. Beside her sat the house-elf, what was her name again? Wispy? Wilky? Winky, that was it! Winky. She was gently stroking Luna’s messy blonde hair as if comforting a child, and with her free hand she occasionally touched a necklace made of Butterbeer corks that she had taken to wearing in imitation of her heroine. 

Neville stood to the other side of the veil. Here was another boy who had changed a lot in recent months. Eileen liked Neville, much to Severus’ initial disgust. She said he had a lot of quiet strength. At some point last night he had taken Severus’ mother aside and blushing furiously murmured an urgent request that Severus was too far away to hear.

Eileen had turned to find Minerva and then the three of them had left the hall. It had seemed an eternity before they returned with Neville clutching something long and metallic and shining. The Sword of Gryffindor.

He stood with it now beside the veil. Another contingency, if Harry had to be cut free, the sword was the only thing which could cut through Basilisk skin easily, even the knives took time and effort. All of them had suffered numerous cuts from the sharp shards of skin, all of them had sore fingers and throbbing palms from where they had grasps the knives for hour after hour. The sword would make light work of their rope though, should it need to, funny that it had not occurred to them to use it when they were preparing the Basilisk skin in the first place.

Hermione sat with Ron, her face hidden in her hands. Draco was with Narcissa. Holding his mother’s hand. He looked calm, composed. He was not meeting anyone’s eye. His mouth was contorted into a superior expression, but Severus didn’t think that anyone was fooled, not this time. There was a tell tale twitch beneath Draco’s right eye and the knuckles of the hand that clutched his mother’s were white. Severus wondered idly if Narcissa were in pain from her son’s fierce grip. Lucius sat beside them, just a little apart.

Around the room sat members of the Order of the Phoenix, Moody, Lupin, Arthur, Robbie Bones. All of them, staring at nothing, drumming their fingers waiting patiently, waiting for Harry to come home.

And all the while, hardly moving, as close to the portal as he could possibly get, stood Hagrid, holding tight to Harry’s lifeline, while great coils of Basilisk rope lay curled at his feet. They were moving slowly as if the giant snake were alive again, indicating that somewhere, on the other side, Harry was moving forward.

Severus closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to see the worry, the despair etched in every face.

They sprang wide again as he heard a crash and rumble just in time to see the door to the chamber fly off, leaving a large gap in the wall.

“Oh how cosy you all look. How sweet! Gathered to wait for Potter are we? Dearie, Dearie me where could Potter be?”

Voldemort was the one who had spoken. He entered the chamber imperiously, stepping over the rumble with an incongruously delicate air glaring at them all through narrowed, red eyes. 

Someone screamed 

Moody, Shacklebolt and a few others leapt to their feet brandishing wands 

But it seemed hopeless as an unstoppable steam of Death Eaters were pouring in to the chamber behind their master, firing hexes as they came. 

The battle for the Ministry had begun.

 

 

Severus stood slowly. The others were slowing Voldemort’s forces down.

A wave of guilt washed over him. He should have insisted on stronger defences, he should never have let Harry go through the veil because now the hero that they needed to save them could be forever trapped on the other side

He had warned Kingsley and the others that something like this might happen. He had never felt completely comfortable with Harry’s dismissal of the pain he had felt in his scar when he had dreamt of the veil. Severus had suspected that the Occlumency shields that Eileen had taught her grandson to create had faltered when Harry had seen Black in his dream. Harry’s emotions had probably peaked and attracted the curiosity of the Dark Lord. Severus doubted that he had any idea what they were up to, but he had obviously seen enough to bring him here today.

He sent a swift prayer to any stray gods that might be listening to protect his nephew and then surreptitiously Severus cast a Notice-Me-Not spell over the Basilisk rope. The coils had reduced quite noticeably, wherever Harry was, he still seemed to be moving forward at least. But there was no way that Severus wanted The Dark Lord to notice Harry’s only connection to the world

The chamber was in chaos. Spells were flying everywhere. Severus heard yells and cries of pain and fear as people dodged out of the way of hexes.

Then rising above the other shouts Severus heard a chilling scream that send shivers down his spine. He turned rapidly wand in hand to see what was happening and froze in horror.

It was Remus. 

Peter Pettigrew had grabbed him. Normally Severus would have bet on Remus’ strength against the weaker man, but Peter had a silver hand. His face was contorted in a cruel smirk as he laid the hand against Remus’ cheek. The werewolf’s flesh was blistering, smoking as the metal burnt its way into his skin.

Remus was struggling, trying to push free, howling in agony but Pettigrew would not let go. This was Peter at his worst; the snivelling little coward had disappeared momentarily. This was the Pettigrew that had cold bloodedly murdered twelve Muggles and sent the odious Black to Azkaban.

Severus tried to get across the chamber, but there were too many people in the way. Neville and Hermione stood back to back battling against the Carrows. Ron appeared to be desperately trying to work his way over to the struggling werewolf but was still quite a distance away. Eileen and Minerva were fighting three Death Eaters, whom Severus could not recognise from this distance and the Dark Lord was in the middle of the mayhem, laughing manically at it all like some storybook villain from a Muggle comic.

Remus screamed again, a desperate, terrible sound.

Then Severus saw someone was running towards Lupin, white-blond hair flying, rippling behind him like an untamed river as he moved towards the stricken werewolf. 

“Lucius?” Severus whispered to himself, “Lucius?”

The man had gone mad! He had no magic, no way to defend Remus what the fuck did he think he was doing? Lucius had his walking stick grasped in his hands he was brandishing it wildly, clearing a path through the fighting.

He was shouting, bellowing. 

A battle cry for a not quite broken man.

Severus could not quite see what Lucius was trying to do, the cane was a wand no-longer, what did Lucius hope to achieve? But as he watched he saw that Lucius was not preparing to hex Pettigrew. Instead he swung the cane as if it were a club, bringing it back behind his head, using the entire force of his body. He hit Pettigrew across the back of his skull, there was a sound as if someone had smashed a melon with a cleaver and the smaller man was knocked off his feet and sent crashing to the benches.

He lay in a heap, his head at a peculiar angle. Even from his position Severus could not mistake the fact that Lucius had killed him. Peter Pettigrew was dead.

Lucius sagged.

Severus couldn’t help thinking that Lucius had just landed a hit that would have made the England cricket team proud and looked around for Robbie Bones, just in case he had seen what Lucius had done too.

Draco was running towards his father now, Severus was closer. But Draco was faster and there were fewer people in his way. All the time that he had watched Severus had worked his way through the swirling robes of others, hearing the desperate grunts and whispered curses, but still Draco got there first.

Draco had been shouting for his father but then his cries had changed. He had reached Lucius and as he wrapped his arms around the elder Malfoy he was sobbing almost uncontrollably “Dad!” he said, “oh Daddy!” Just as he had when he was a very tiny boy and had fallen over and hurt himself, or had had a bad dream.

Severus had finally reached Remus’ side, the werewolf had collapsed to the ground, he was whimpering, and clutching his face, obviously in great pain.

Draco was currently battering at his father with his fists, seemingly unconscious of the raging battle that surrounded them, still sobbing helplessly. But Lucius simply wrapped him in a hug and held him close.

The fight still raged on around them and Severus let fly the occasional hex, to keep everyone away from the trio, before quickly erecting a shield.

“You frightened me you stupid git!” Draco was saying, desperately trying to wriggle out of his father’s arms. “You’ve got no magic, you arsehole! You could have been killed.”

“Shush, Draco,” Lucius said wrapping his arms more tightly around Draco in the midst of all the chaos, crushing his son against him and stilling the flailing fists. “I had to help him, it could so easily have been you! He could have done that to you not so long ago and I couldn’t bear to see such torture.”

Draco choked back a sob and Severus turned his attention toward Remus as Narcissa reached the little group. The man was in obvious agony, he was rolled in a ball, arms wrapped around his head, tears, generated by the pain, rolled unchecked down his burned and swollen cheek

“AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The scream that rent the air this time was like nothing else that Severus had ever heard.

It was Voldemort.

His face was turned towards the vaulted ceiling of the chamber in which they were trapped. His hands clawed at his face first and then his chest.

The room went still. 

Voldemort was wavering. He looked paler than ever. For a moment he almost seemed to disappear, his body now looked insubstantial, terribly weakened. The Death Eaters began to lose interest in the battle and simply watched their master seemingly weaken.

Had Harry done it? Had he destroyed the last Horcrux? What did it mean?

“Now! Bring him back now!” It was Luna that had spoken. The girl had not moved throughout the entire battle, she had sat frozen beside the tall mysterious structure through which Harry had disappeared only minutes before.

Someone turned towards her, firing off a hex and Luna crumpled unresisting to the ground.

This time the shrill scream came from the house-elf, who fell to her knees in terrible anguish, but then Luna moved, and groaned quietly. She wasn’t dead, but she probably needed help. Severus lowered the shield that he had created and pulled Narcissa toward him. “Help Lupin,” he croaked and standing he recast the shield around the werewolf and the little family, taking care that none of the magic was even close to touching Lucius.

Hagrid seemed frozen.

Voldemort appeared to have regained his balance now and his scream turned into a roar of fury.

The hourglass was nearly empty and Severus began to run towards it, still dodging curses for all that he was worth.

“PULL HAGRID!!” He bellowed, “FOR FUCK SAKE MAN PULL!”

Severus’ shout drew Voldemort’s attention to Hagrid then, raising an arm and pointing at the man he screamed.

“KILL THE GIANT!” 

But Hagrid had heard Severus command and started to pull the rope as fast as he could.

Several of the Death Eaters started to fire hexes at the large man, but Hagrid was ignoring them and their curses bounced off his arms and torso apparently doing no harm. But Severus knew better. Even Hagrid could not resist such heavy cursing for long, eventually he would weaken, fall and there would be no-one to rescue Harry. No-one else was strong enough, no-one else could hold the robe for very long without their hands being torn to shreds.

The half giant was pulling for all he was worth. Hand over hand, drawing something towards him. Something that only he knew was there. Something invisible to the eyes of everyone else, thanks to Severus’ spell.

“Cover him!” Severus shouted as those members of the Order that were close enough hurried to do as Severus asked.

All at once Hagrid stopped.

“Don’t stop man!” Severus hissed as he continued to shield the half-giant, “keep pulling, keep pulling!”

“Can’t. Too heavy!” Hagrid was straining against something. face red with the strain, limbs shaking, he was leaning backwards; putting all his strength into what he was doing, leaning hard against the resistance. 

“PULL!”

With a great roar Hagrid did as Severus told him, then the force he was pulling against seemed to give a little as he flew backwards off his feet and an enormous crack rent the air.

Molly screamed and pointed and they all turned towards the veil. The portal was bowing, it was changing shape, curving outwards. For several seconds time stood still. A groaning noise came from nowhere, a rumbling, like distant thunder, like an earthquake.

The room began to shake as the portal seemed to stretch beyond credibility, apparently determined to hold on to its prize. Hagrid had regained his footing, he seemed a little shaken, but his face wore a look of determination and he still appeared to be holding tight to the invisible rope, as Severus watched he bent his knees and began to pull again.

Then the gateway exploded.

“GET DOWN!!!! Severus shouted. Shards of stone from the arch, sharper than knives were flying through the air and two bodies, not one, came soaring through the veil, as if falling from a great height. Wrapped around each other, holding each other closely, arms entwined. They landed with a soft thud on the ground beside Severus.

Harry and Sirius Black. 

Neither moved. They had parted slightly on landing. Black was on the ground, Harry sprawled somewhat over him, his hands were clutching Black's robes. Both of them were pale and covered in some sort of thick mucus and a layer of fine dust, which was showering down on them. It was all that was left of the imposing portal, which had once dominated the room.

Severus had been one of the only people still standing in the chamber when the world exploded in a shower of white hot debris but now he fell to his knees. Quickly, silently, he whispered a diagnostic spell and could have sobbed with relief when he found a pulse, not just for Harry but for Black as well. Of course Severus could have cared less about the fate of the animagus, but Harry had returned, he had not died on the other side of the veil.

They were alive, both of them, unconscious but alive.


	48. Chapter Forty-eight

The usual thanks to Claudia, who betaed this last night. Laylee is away at the moment and this has only been to one beta so please forgive any mistakes.

A/N absolutely no cliffhanger on this one!

 

Forty-eight.

Harry hurt! He hurt all over, every bit of him throbbed and ached. He was so fucking fed up with being in pain! He could feel someone warm beneath him. Was he in bed with Draco? No, that didn’t seem right. Then it all came flooding back, the veil, the fight with Voldemort, and Sirius. This wasn’t Draco underneath him, it was Sirius. And the chest upon which Harry was sprawled was rising and falling with each breath that he took. He was alive! Sirius was alive. 

He felt hands touching him Grasping at his neck, his wrist, urgently, frantically, checking for a pulse, he felt a spell crackle in the air beside him and then heard a relieved sigh.

He opened his eyes and found he was face down, covered in some sort of sticky dusty mess. It immediately got in his eyes and half blinded him. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, he heard a voice.

“Expelliarmus!” 

Harry froze. 

He would know that voice anywhere. High-pitched, cold, evil. There was a swishing sound that sounded like arrows whizzing through the air and a few anguished cries as numerous wizards lost hold of their wands. 

“Shit!” Harry thought, “Voldemort.”

“Oh dear me,” the evil one continued, “so that is where Harry was. Always the adventurer wasn’t he Severus?”

Harry felt Severus stand up and turn; it had been Severus that was checking him for signs of life, he was still standing very close to him, as if trying to shield Harry from Voldemort.

“I will not let you hurt him.” Severus said, his voice was calm, but he was still so close to Harry that he could feel his uncle trembling.

“Severus, Severus, I have your wand, I have all your wands. How do you think you are going to stop me?

“You are all so stupid, so arrogant to think you could take me on. I am the Dark Lord! I am He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I am Voldemort! I shall….”

“Oh do shut up!” It was Eileen’s voice calm and unwavering, “You always were an arrogant prick Tom Riddle! I never liked you, even in school you always got away with far too much in my opinion.” 

“There were several gasps as Eileen spoke, people were obviously shocked at her words although Harry wasn’t sure whether it was because she had interrupted and told the Dark wizard off or because she had used Voldemort’s real name.

Harry was astonished; his gran was at school with Voldemort? How come she had never mentioned it before? He tried to get up; he flexed his fingers and began to move. But then he felt a foot nudge him, he looked up fuzzily to see his uncle’s face, staring down at him, impassively. Almost imperceptibly Severus shook his head.

Harry stilled and waited.

“Shut up old woman! Your time will come and I promise you, you will feel agony more terrible than any pain that you have ever felt,” Voldemort snarled the words at Eileen, almost hissing at her, sounding rather like an angry snake.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, who talks like that?” Eileen said with distain, _“agony more terrible than any pain that you have ever felt?”_ She snorted with laughter, “You never could string a sentence together could you, for all your erstwhile good looks! For a start, Tom Riddle, you have given me more pain than anyone should have to deal with you twisted bastard! You killed my daughter! Took away my son. I’ll not let you have my grandson too.”

Voldemort let out a furious roar. “Shut up or I will make you, you foolish old cow. You are unarmed, all of you, you are at my mercy. The battle is over and I have won!”

Harry took the chance of moving his head really slowly so that he could see something of the chamber, something of what was going on.

Kingsley had his hands up in front of him in mute surrender, whilst a tall Death Eater, brandished a wand in his face. Another had an arm wrapped around Hermione’s neck she was pressed up against the Death Eater that had captured her, facing outwards, she was crying and she seemed filled with despair.

Behind her Harry could just about see Draco, he was seemingly trying to protect his father with his own body, yet another Death Eater, was kicking at someone who was lying prone, whoever it was, he was flinching away from the hard boots, trying to protect himself as he lay beside Draco on the ground.

Harry closed his eyes again and felt anger boiling up inside him. Those bastards, torturing, evil bastards, he had to stop them, he had to, but what the fuck was he going to do this time? They were surrounded, the Death Eaters had indeed appeared to have won. From what Harry could gather Voldemort had all the wands, well except for Harry’s, Harry wasn’t even sure where his was anymore, as he hadn’t used it for ages, he thought Severus must have put it somewhere safe. 

Voldemort was speaking again.

“I suggest you make your mother stop her babbling Severus, otherwise I will Crucio her, would you like to see her writhe in pain?”

Harry almost got up then, but Severus gently placed a foot on Harry’s hand, holding him still, apparently he didn’t want Harry to move just yet.

“Mother, do be quiet!” Harry almost giggled at Severus’ words, he could imagine the look on his grandmother’s face and the death glare she was sending her son. Not that any of this was funny, perhaps he was becoming hysterical? How the heck was he going to get them out of this situation alive? If he could somehow incapacitate the Death Eaters then Voldemort would not be a problem Harry thought. He did not want to give up now when he was so very close to killing the bastard. Harry didn’t think Voldemort would have any idea how weak he was right now, now that Harry had destroyed his Horcruxes. Hopefully there was no way that the dark wizard would know that his monstrous creations had all been destroyed, that at long last he had become vulnerable. Not until Harry was ready to use that vulnerability. 

“That’s right, Severus, you would do well to obey me and save your mother additional pain.” Voldemort continued, sounding very pleased with himself. “Of course she will feel a lot of pain when I kill you and you must die my little servant, because you betrayed me Severus.”

“No! Don’t you touch hi…!” Eileen sounded desperate.

“Petrificus Totalis.” Voldemort said, idly. Presumably freezing Eileen where she stood. Then Harry thought that his blood might freeze in own veins as Voldemort called for his familiar. Voldemort was calling Nagini in loving, tender tones; of course Harry was the only one who knew what was happening, what he was doing. Everyone else would just be hearing the sibilant hissing of parseltongue.

But there were several terrified gasps in the chamber and one or two screams as Harry heard a heavy slithering sound and presumably Nagini entered the chamber from wherever she had been waiting.

“Tell me Severus,” Voldemort said, in English this time. “Whom shall I let Nagini eat first? Your mother or your nephew?”

When Voldemort said these words, several things happened at once.

Somebody yelled. It wasn’t a scream, it was too raw, too visceral for a scream and Harry sat up.

Everyone was looking at the person who had yelled. It was Neville Longbottom. He was holding a very familiar sword, high over his head and as they watched he brought it down with a swishing noise, followed by a squishy crunch and a spurting of blood. Neville had beheaded Nagini.

The scream of anguish that Voldemort let out was terrible in its intensity and then Neville was screaming in agony as Voldemort threw hex after hex at the boy.

While everyone was watching Neville, Harry grabbed Severus’ arm. He had an idea, a possible way to disable to the Death Eaters. He had no idea if it would work but it was the only plan he had. For a moment his uncle seemed astonished at the action and tried to pull away, but Harry continued to frantically tug at Severus’ sleeve, finally managing to pull the fabric up, revealing the mark that Severus always tried to hide.

“I’m sorry Severus,” Harry whispered, “I have to.” For a fraction of a second the two men looked at each other, Severus’ dark eyes seemed unfathomable but Harry was sure he saw permission in those depths. Keeping his own eyes on Severus’ Harry blocked out the sound of Neville’s screams and concentrated hard. 

He placed his hand over the hideous mark on his uncle’s arm and closed his eyes again.

Then Severus was screaming too.

Harry concentrated. He didn’t want to kill these men; he just had to take them out of the battle. He could feel the darkness of the magic in the marks as he let his own magic fly free. They were connected, all of them like sinister, abandoned stations along a broken railway line, and as his magic flowed Harry caught glimpses of the thoughts and feelings of the men that his magic touched. His overwhelming impression was of fear, terrible, awful, all encompassing fear. The men and women that were bound to Voldemort were terrified, full of hatred and pain. At each person, each stop along the line, he gave a sort of mental punch, sending the Death Eater into deep slumber. Then he felt a familiar mind, a soul that he knew well, he gave Draco a mental hug, smiling at the tiny frisson of surprise that he felt from his lover. Then he moved on quickly, by-passing Lucius and Narcissa, continuing on until all the Death Eaters except for the four for whom he had come to know had been rendered unconscious. 

Harry opened his eyes; Severus was slumped against him, breathing hard. His face was deathly pale and he was sweating profusely but he was conscious, though he was shaking badly. “I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered again and he squeezed his uncle’s arm gently, sending a little burst of magical strength through his fingers. The room had become totally silent and still as the Death Eaters had slumped unconscious to the ground, one after the other.

Everyone stood watching, on alert. The fact that his minions were all asleep seemed to have finally pierced through Voldemort’s rage and he had released Neville. The other boy had sunk to his knees and was quietly retching in a corner while all around them lay the black crumpled forms of Death Eaters and not one of them moved. 

Voldemort was growling softly, like a trapped animal. He had his wand raised and he was peering around seemingly ready to hex anyone that challenged him.

Harry reached out and gently pushed his uncle away from himself. It almost caused him more pain than he stand to push himself up off the ground until he was standing, but Harry did it, he stood. His legs were very shaky, but he didn’t fall. Instead, breathing hard from all his exertions Harry raised his eyes and looked directly into the face of the man that he was going to fight. 

“I will kill you now Potter.” Voldemort growled.

“No you won’t.” It was Eileen that had spoken. Voldemort had been so intent on Crucioing Neville that his Petrificus charm must have worn off, setting Harry’s grandmother free. Eileen moved forward again seemingly unafraid. 

“No Eileen, stay away.” It was Minerva speaking. “He will hurt you!” Harry was shocked to see that McGonagall had been crying, her face was streaked with dirt and tears.

“Hush, Min,” Eileen said, patting her friend’s hand, “he can’t really hurt us any longer, he can’t kill us all before we overpower him.”

She walked towards Voldemort and Harry’s heart ached with fear and not a little pride to see this tiny old woman standing up to the evil monster who had killed and tortured so many innocent people.

“You are alone;” Eileen said, staring unflinchingly at the distorted face, “you have no-one to help you. You will have to kill me before you kill Harry.”

Voldemort pointed his wand at her to do exactly that but before he could open his mouth to utter the killing curse, Draco stood up.

“And me.” Draco had moved forward now, he shook off his mother’s hand as she reached out to pull him back.

But then Lucius stepped forward too, moving in front of his son.

“I will die before Draco does and I will not let you kill Harry either.” He said simply. Narcissa joined him then, standing beside her husband, their son pushed out of sight behind them

“I would too. I would die before I let near Harry again.” Minerva McGonagall spoke next; she lifted her chin slightly, as if to emphasize what she was saying

“And me,” Molly Weasley joined the others.

“I would die for Harry,” Ron spoke next.

One by one, more and more people moved closer to the evil wizard, each saying the same thing. . Voldemort was looking at them disdainfully and Harry wondered at the overconfidence of the wizard. Any sane megalomaniac would at least be a little afraid by now. But then Voldemort wasn’t sane was he? Hadn’t been for years.

Hermione was the next to stand up and join the others, tearstains still streaking her face and Luna, limping forward, cradling an arm that might have been broken, followed by a small elf, who refused to leave her side. Alastor Moody spoke next, his face grim, then Arthur and Severus. Severus had hauled himself to his feet, drained by the fact that he had been a conduit for Harry’s magic, but determined to speak up none-the-less.

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. They meant it. They really meant it. Each and every one of them meant what they said. They were prepared to die for Harry. 

More and more people were standing now

Percy, Ginny, the twins, Neville, white and trembling, but with his head held high, Hagrid and Remus, even though the latter seemed dreadfully hurt. From what Harry could see his face was scarred and distorted and Harry wondered what could have happened. But there was not time to think about that now.

“No.” 

Harry moved his feet at last, one foot in front of the other. His legs felt like they did not belong to him, as if he would not be able to move them even if he tried. Given the intensity of the pain, he was sure that some of his ribs were broken. But Harry had had broken ribs before, they would not stop him doing what he had to do this time either.

The rope that was wrapped around him felt too heavy to carry, but Harry did not think that now was the right time to stop and take it off. His glasses were gone, lost somewhere in all the rubble and everything looked blurry, but perhaps that was for the best right now. After all, Harry did not really want to look at the faces of his friends and family in case he saw doubt written there, or even worse, in case he saw love. To see their faces full of love and fear for him might mean that he would not be able to go through with his destiny.

“No-one else is to die for me.” Harry shuffled forward; he was almost doubled over in pain. Walking was painful, moving brought more pain, even breathing was painful beyond all description. But Harry kept moving just the same, onwards toward Voldemort, trailing the rope made of Basilisk hide behind him in his wake.

Voldemort in contrast had frozen. His eyes were narrowed, his twisted features held in a sneer his wand was grasped firmly in his hand. The evil wizard was easily more powerful than anyone else in the room, well apart from Harry that was, but even he must know that he could not defeat them all.

As Harry drew closer the other man’s sneer grew wider.

“Look at you,” he hissed, “is this the so called _Hero of the Wizarding World?”_

“I don’t know about that.” Harry said in a tight little voice, funnily enough, he thought, it hurt to speak too. “But you are finished, Tom, you will not kill me or anyone else. You are the one who will die today.”

For a second, Harry saw real fear flash in those red eyes, and then it was gone.

The evil wizard towered over Harry. He peered down at him along what passed for a nose in that misshapen face.

“You can’t kill me, boy. I have taken steps, measures that mean I can never be destroyed. Oh you could vanquish me today, but you did that once before didn’t you and I came back again. You know that I will return, sooner or later.”

Harry gave Voldemort a false look of sympathy. “Are you talking about the Horcruxes, Tom? Because if you are, you have to know that they will not help you, they are all gone, obliterated.”

Voldemort was backing away now, shaking his head. But Harry limped on; he had to finish this for good, today, forever. He started listing the Horcruxes; he wanted to check that he had indeed destroyed them all.

There were seven parts of your soul weren’t there, Tom?” he asked, counting them off on his fingers as he had done so long ago in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. “One part still resides in you, but it is weak, fragmented, you have divided it so many times. Your first Horcrux was the diary wasn’t it? You made it while you were still in school, one was the locket that Regulus Black managed to steal and hide away, one was Slytherin’s ring, another one was Rowena’s wand, that’s why you kidnapped Ollivander to make sure that it was safe and would not be found. But we rescued Ollivander and located the wand, that’s gone too now. The final one was Helga’s cup,” Harry watched closely as Voldemort’s eyes flashed in quiet triumph. He felt himself smile, and Harry was glad that he could not see himself right then, because he didn’t think that his smile was a nice one at all.

“Did I forget one Tom?” Harry asked almost gently, “oh I did, didn’t I? Why do you think I’m here today?” Voldemort was still backing away from Harry, which annoyed him immensely as it hurt to walk. But since when had a little pain stopped Harry? So he limped on regardless.

“Did you feel it when the last Horcrux was destroyed, Tom? Because the last one was me, that's why I went behind the veil. That one has gone too.” Considering that the evil wizard’s usual colour was an unearthly white it was strange to see him pale, but he did go paler at Harry’s words, he was almost translucent at the moment, Harry thought. It was fascinating and completely revolting

“I feel sorry for you, Tom.” Harry continued. “Because when I kill you there will be no-one to mourn you, no-one to care. You are not loved by anyone and it could all have been so different couldn’t it? I saw lots of memories of you. You were once so handsome, so charming. People followed you, admired you, gave up everything for you and you threw it all away.”

With the realisation that all his Horcruxes had been destroyed, Voldemort seemed to have finally broken. He was shaking his head, and as Harry got closer started to tremble slightly, “No, stop it, go away. Leave me alone!” 

“I wish I could, Tom. But I can’t, I have to kill you, you have forced that upon me, you have taken too many lives, spoiled too many others. I am so sorry,” Harry was surprised to find that he actually meant that. The broken wizard before him seemed more deserving of pity than anything else. 

Voldemort lifted his wand with a shaking hand and pointed it at Harry.

Harry smiled at him again, rather sadly this time. “That won’t work I’m afraid. You can’t kill me with _curses_ I am shielded against them, we all are. Didn’t you hear them?” Harry hand swept the room in a great arc wincing at the jolt of pain that shot through his aching ribs.

“They offered to die for me, didn’t you hear that? My family, my friends.” Harry’s voice cracked on the words _my family_ and his eyes burned with fierce tears, his heart hurt. “Just like my Mum did, just like her. And I would have died for them too. I did in fact, I went through the veil, that _was_ a kind of a death. You can’t hurt us anymore.” Harry couldn’t have said how he knew this to be true, but it was, he felt it with every fibre of his being.

Voldemort let out a pained cry, he sounded like a wounded animal.

“Shush,” Harry said, almost gently this time. “You don’t have to fight any more. It is all over now.” He lifted his hand, reached up high and placed it on Voldemort’s face, he could only reach the man’s chin, but that was enough he thought. For a fraction of a second he felt the dry papery skin beneath his finger-tips, then Tom Riddle’s eyes widened for the final time and without making a further sound he crumbled to dust beneath Harry’s touch.

Harry hadn’t known what would happen when he touched the Dark Lord, but he had suspected. The man had broken his soul so many times now, fractured it. He was so bathed in blood, in evil that he could not bear Harry’s touch any longer. Harry hadn’t really known that he wouldn’t even survive his touch, but it seemed as good a way as any to kill him. Harry was just glad that it hadn’t appeared to cause him pain

“Hmm,” Harry said to himself, lowering his hand and looking at his fingers in crazed bewilderment. “Just like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

Then he shook his head and immediately wished he hadn’t because, fuck-it- all, that hurt too.

There was complete silence in the chamber. For several seconds no-one moved, they scarcely even breathed, they just stood there staring at Harry, he was well aware of how bizarre he must look, white with dust and covered in sticky ichor. He blinked to try and clear his eyes of dust and feeling suddenly very weak Harry swayed slightly on his feet.

Kingsley’s voice rang out clear and strong, beautiful to Harry’s ears at least because it meant that this was all true and not a dream.

_“And either shall die at the hand of the other for neither shall live while the other survives.”_

It was over. The battle was over. Harry could have a life now, he really could. He tried to move again, to check on Sirius, who had not appeared to wake yet. He needed to go and see Severus and reassure him that having his godfather back would not change things between them. But he found that he couldn’t move, his limbs were not obeying him any more. Harry knees began to give out and he started to fall.

But before he could hit the ground he felt strong arms enfolding him and he leaned back into that firm, familiar embrace. Draco, it was Draco! Harry’s battle was over at last; he could relax and lean into his lover’s embrace. It was done

Voldemort, the man who had killed his parents, blighted his childhood and destroyed his innocence was dead at last.

 

A/N The scene with Neville is very probably the only scene in this story which is DH compliant. I thought that Neville deserved his heroism, especially as he didn’t get to kill Bellatrix in this story either.


	49. Chapter Forty-nine

A/N Thank you all so much for your kind reviews. I am trying to get this story finished and have no more than 2/3 chapters left. That includes the epilogue btw. I will reply individually when I have finished the story but right now I am posting and running. But I just wanted to say that your reviews have been wonderful and have kept me going when I got stuck or felt like giving up. Thank you all very much indeed. Hugs to you all ~ Lucie

Special thanks to Claudia, you my dear are my saviour!

 

Forty-Nine

Harry was literally swaying on his feet. He didn’t think he could stand up much longer. Luckily Draco was there, so Harry had someone that he could lean on. He looked up at his boyfriend and Draco smiled back down at him affectionately

“You did it, you crazy git!” He said, “You fucking did it!”

He turned Harry around and started pressing urgent kisses all over his face.

“Draco,” Harry said, “Mmph! Draco! You do realise that I am covered in this gooey stuff!”

“Don’t care!” Draco said, and it seemed he didn’t because he kept kissing Harry anyway.

“Harry, love!” It was Eileen and reluctantly Draco stepped slightly aside to let Harry’s grandmother close to him. She stood before her grandson and looked at him, with such love in her eyes, that Harry’s breath was almost completely taken away, she started to gently wipe away some of the worst of the goo that covered his face with a dampened hanky.

“I am so proud of you, love!” She said, as she gently mopped at the worst, most dried on patches.

Then she had thrown the hanky aside and was holding him close, sobbing damply into his chest.

“Oh Harry, oh thank God! You are okay, you are alive. Do you realise that you are grounded until you are at least forty five and I am not letting you out of my sight until you are thirty?”

“I love you too, Gran.” Harry said tentatively, as she hugged him tightly around his waist. Seeing his normally emotionally strong grandmother in such a state was not something that he knew how to deal with, so Harry, being Harry fell back on the need to do some practical tasks.

“We have to help clear up now though,” he said, patting her gently and stepping backwards out of her hug. Moving away from his gran’s embrace, Harry staggered a little, suddenly feeling very weak indeed, “and I have to find Severus, and see how Sirius is too.”

Eileen smiled at him gently, Harry thought that she understood, she seemed to be able to read him so well didn’t she? Luna came up to Eileen then and his gran turned to speak to the girl, something about letting Eileen know when the healers finally arrived. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” Draco asked, quietly. Harry nodded, but then Harry’s knees almost gave way again, Draco supported him, it seemed like he was he was determined to help him, be there for him, Harry thought warmly and he was obviously not planning on letting go of Harry anytime soon.

Then Neville came up to them, limping awkwardly. Harry smiled up at him. Neville was so tall! When had that happened? He _looked_ like a hero Harry thought, far more than Harry did. Gone was the ungainly child, that had once tried to stop them chasing after The Philosopher’s Stone, or the insecure teenager who had followed Harry to the Ministry. Neville had grown into his gawkiness and the rather lumpen features of his youth had evened out so that despite his somewhat battered appearance at the moment, he had grown into a rather fine looking young man.

“Are you alright, Neville?” Harry asked. 

“I’ve been better, but I’ll be okay.” Neville said rather thickly, his lip was swollen and bloody; Harry assumed that he must have bitten it when he was being Crucioed.

“Thanks Neville, for what you did…..” Harry began.

“Oh do shut up, Harry.” Neville said, twisting his swollen lips into a smile. We both did our bit, and you my friend saved us all. Thank you Harry.”

Harry felt tears spring to his eyes.

Neville extended his hand and Harry reached out to grasp it, only to find that the other boy had gently pushed something into Harry’s hand. It was his glasses. They were a bit twisted and covered in dust, but they weren’t broken. Harry wiped them on his sleeve and put them on.

“Ttthanks,” Harry said, and then he didn’t say much for a while, because Neville had embraced him and they both had tears streaming down their faces. They had done it! They had survived! Both of them had lost their parents, Harry to death, Neville to insanity. But somehow, against all odds they had grown up and done all right, really, all things considered, at least that was what Harry told himself anyway.

Finally Harry pushed himself away from the other boy, “Erm, I have to er, find Severus and see how Sirius is doing.”

Neville nodded, but his eyes were suspiciously bright.

“Shall we get that rope off you first though?” 

Harry looked down at his chest in surprise; the Basilisk rope was still tied around his torso. Now that Harry’s attention had been drawn to it, he realised that it was actually very heavy and constricting.

“Oh, yeah. But I don’t think that I can untie it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Neville said with a grin, “I might just have a little something here to take care of it.” He raised up the sword that he still carried; Harry was impressed, he didn’t think that he would have the strength to even lift the sword right now. Surprisingly it was gleaming again, like it should be, not stained with the blood of Nagini. Neville must have cleaned it. He held it against the harness that Harry seemed to have been wearing for days and it cut through the bonds as if they were butter. He smiled as the pieces of rope fell away.

“See you later then?” He reached over and clapped Harry on the back, Harry tried not to wince, Merlin when had Neville grown so strong? Harry thought he must have been working out. 

Harry wanted to stay and talk some more, but he was worried about his godfather, whether he would be all right, whether he would regain consciousness. He was also worried about his uncle, he was delighted that his godfather was safe, and wanted talk, hear about his time behind the veil, but he needed his uncle. 

Looking around, Harry spotted Severus leaning against one of the benches. He looked pale, he was still shaking, quite badly and Harry resolved to not waste any more time. 

“Erm, Draco?” Harry asked, “do you think you could help me walk over to Sirius and er, and Severus too?”

He didn’t think he could move on his own, he was fairly sure that if he even tried to take another step on his own he would fall flat on his face. Falling through the veil had done him a lot of damage and he wondered how battered Sirius would be.

Together he and Draco started to make their way through the chamber. The room was a total mess. Aurors were moving about, checking on the Death Eaters who were all still unconscious. Harry wondered where the Ministry staff had been when the battle was going on. Several of them had bandages, cuts and bruises, but none of them looked as though they had been badly injured. Perhaps there had been some sort of battle before Voldemort had even reached the Department of Mysteries and this particular chamber?

People were moving around slowly, as if in disbelief at what had actually happened. Arthur, Kingsley and Mad-Eye, were standing near the pile of dust which had once been Voldemort, poking at the remains and talking amongst themselves.

As Harry passed, leaning heavily on Draco, people fell silent and watched his progress; it was as if nobody knew what to say.

Harry though hardly noticed, as he was determinedly heading for his uncle and his godfather. Although the two men were quite close to each other on the other side of the room, Sirius still seemed to be unconscious and Severus seemed to be determinedly ignoring his erstwhile rival.

Harry’s uncle looked exhausted. He was pale, almost as translucent as Voldemort had been earlier. Now that Harry had his glasses on again, he could see how weak Severus appeared to be. The fact that he had been used as a conduit for Harry’s magic must have been more draining than Harry had realised.

Strangely enough, Narcissa was by Sirius’ side, Harry had forgotten that they were cousins, maybe Narcissa felt that she had lost enough relatives recently. She had placed a makeshift pillow under Sirius’ head and covered him with a robe. She was being aided by Remus, a Remus that was obviously in pain, but determined to do his bit to help revive his oldest friend. One side of the werewolf’s face was swollen and distorted. It looked really sore to Harry, as if Lupin had been burned and for a moment Harry almost went to him.

But Severus was alone and Harry could not have that. He smiled at his uncle, and with Draco’s help started to edge his way over to Severus, stumbling a little bit on the piles of debris. 

But just as he almost reached Severus it seemed that Sirius was stirring at last.

Harry’s godfather was moving. He was groaning and trying to sit up.

Harry was torn.

He wanted to go to Severus, but Sirius was waking up, he hadn’t asked to be here, had struggled against it in fact. Didn’t Harry owe it to Sirius to be there as he tried to absorb the fact that he was back in the real world? And Severus was fine wasn’t he? Just a little bit weak. In fact Harry thought with a twinge of irritation, Severus could have come to him. Harry’s progress across the room was slow and painful, Severus, though, could have crossed the floor in a couple of strides.

“”Harry? Kid? What the?…” It was Sirius; he had pushed himself up to a seated position and was staring around him in amazement.

_”Remus?_ What the? _Am I alive?_ ” He sounded so astonished, so amazed that Harry laughed. And when Sirius spoke his name again, Harry’s decision was made for him. He changed direction and headed for Sirius.

But he had barely taken a single step when something made him stop. He had to tell his uncle that having Sirius back wouldn’t change things between them. Harry had never forgotten the fierce rivalry that had existed between the two men, the intense hatred.

He turned around, and looked at Severus. Just for a moment his uncle’s eyes met his own. They seemed infinitely sad. Then the black pupils rolled up and Severus’ knees buckled and with no one near him, no one to help, Severus Snape fell heavily to the ground.

“NO!” Harry screamed, “Severus!” 

Harry would never know how he managed to cover the ground between himself and his uncle, considering that he had been barely able to move only moments before, but he did. He left Draco behind and ran, desperate to reach his uncle.

Then was on his knees, he gently placed his hands on Severus’ chest only to find that it was soaking wet. Severus was covered in blood! He was bleeding.

“Eileen!” Harry shrieked, “Come here now!” Within seconds his gran was beside him and Severus’ head was cradled in her lap.

“Sevvy? Sevvy?” She was saying, as if astonished that anything should be wrong. Harry couldn’t blame her. When had this happened? Why was Severus bleeding? Harry let out a sob. The dark robe that Severus was wearing had hidden the blood, but it was saturated, Severus had obviously been bleeding for some time. 

What could have done this, how had it happened?

Then Harry found it. His desperately searching fingers located something sharp embedded just below Severus’ ribs.

“Fuck! It’s something sharp,” he told Eileen, desperately seeking her help, “like a bit of rubble or something!”

Eileen looked horror struck. “Harry, the veil! When it exploded, Severus was standing up, he told us all to get down, but he was still standing, he was beside you when you and Sirius Black came through. He must have been hit!

“Oh Sevvy!” She said again, cradling his hand to her chest, placing a tender kiss on it. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

Severus’ eyes were open again. He was looking up at them. He opened his mouth to, perhaps to speak, but blood bubbled out instead.

“No!” Harry screamed again. He had placed his hands on Severus’ chest and was desperately trying to push some magic into his uncle, Harry kept trying to heal him, but he did not know what to do. The shard was buried deep in his flesh, and Harry didn’t dare move it in case the bleeding got worse. He had read that somewhere, if someone was knifed, or pierced with something sharp then you weren’t supposed to move the object, in case the bleeding got worse. But there was already so much blood, it was oozing out of the deep would and Harry couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Its not working!” He screamed. “I can’t get my magic into him! It keeps coming out again!”

Severus coughed. More blood trickled out of his mouth, painting his lips a deep dark red.

“NO!” Harry was hysterical now. He didn’t understand why his instincts seemed to be failing him now when he needed them the most. “It’s not working! My magic isn’t working.”

With what seemed like a tremendous effort, Severus reached up, his eyelids appeared to be growing heavy, but he brushed Harry’s cheek with the back of his fingers. It seemed to Harry that Severus was trying to smile. But Harry was frozen in horror. He couldn’t lose Severus now, he just couldn’t, everyone else seemed to just melt away and Harry began to sob.

“Don’t leave me Severus, please don’t leave me.” 

He was crying openly now, he couldn’t move his hands because the pressure that he was applying on the gash beneath Severus’ ribs seemed to be slowing the bleeding. So he looked up at the distant ceiling of the chamber and blinked rapidly to try to clear his eyes.

Someone removed his glasses, which was fine with Harry, he didn’t need them right now.

Severus groaned and a little more blood trickled from his mouth.

“Fuck you!” Harry screamed, he didn’t know he was talking to, those same forces who had made his childhood such a farce?. “You can’t fucking have him! I need him, I love him. It was never meant to be an exchange! I don’t want Sirius instead of him. It has to be both of them! Please, please don’t take him away from me!”

Severus breaths were growing laboured now.

“NO!” Harry screamed again, “Please no! Somebody help me! Oh God, please help me!”

_”Please, help!”_

 

 

Severus looked up at his nephew, through eyes that seemed so very tired. He wanted to tell him that he was alright, that it didn’t hurt, that he just wanted to sleep for a little while and then everything would be fine. When the portal had exploded, Severus had been so desperate to get everyone down, to keep them safe, that he had hardly felt the impact from the shard that had hit him.

When Harry had used Severus as a conduit for the stream of magic that had affected the Death Eaters, he had already been weakened and it had hurt almost as badly as Cruciatus did. But Severus did not object, Harry had, had to do that, they had been surrounded, it had been a brilliant idea.

He wanted to say all this to Harry, but he couldn’t quite seem to get his mouth to work, it was full of blood. 

Severus frowned.

Harry was crying. Crying for him? Severus could not quite believe it. No one had ever done that, apart from his mother. Oh she was here too, his head was in her lap. It was nice, like when he was a little boy and he was sad.

Harry was crying harder. Severus could feel warmth flooding him, but it was only for moment and then it seeped away. He realised that Harry was trying to use his magic to heal him but of course it wasn’t working. Harry would need to seal the wound first, didn’t he realise that, silly boy?

But then Severus remembered, he had never taught Harry that charm, he didn’t think anyone else knew it either, well apart from Poppy Pomfrey and he knew that she wasn’t there. He hadn’t wanted to show Eileen, because she would wonder why Severus had needed to devise such a charm and there was no way Severus had wanted to tell his mother about inventing _Sectumsempra_

He reached up to touch his nephew’s face; but he only managed to brush Harry’s cheek, before his arm felt too heavy to hold up any more.

“Don’t leave me Severus, please don’t leave me!” Harry was sobbing now. Eileen’s hand was cool on his forehead and she was crying too.

“Fuck you!” Harry screamed, Severus wondered whom Harry was screaming at. Surely it wasn’t him? Was Harry angry? “You can’t fucking have him! I need him, I love him. It was never meant to be an exchange! I don’t want Sirius instead of him. It has to be both of them! Please, please don’t take him away from me!”

“’Oh!’” Severus thought. “’Harry wasn’t angry at all. He loves me?’” Severus began to smile, his nephew was upset, he loved him. He didn’t want Black instead of him. Harry was here, beside Severus, he had chosen him, and nobody apart from Eileen had ever done that, chosen Severus. Severus wanted to cry, he really did. But his eyes were scratchy and sore. Then all at once his chest hurt and Severus couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath

He distantly heard Harry screaming, calling for help.

Severus thought he could hear a piccolo too. It's song was higher than a flute, with a thinner melody. Who could be playing a piccolo? But it wasn't an instrument, it was the song of a bird. A magical bird, who had apparently answered Harry's call for help.

There was a sudden flash of red and gold, and the brush of silky feathers across his cheek and tears, phoenix tears.

“Fawkes?” Harry said, “ _Fawkes?_

“Harry,” Eileen said, “ Pull out the shard that is in him.” And when Harry began to protest, “It’s okay to do that now, we have to get it out love! Fawkes is here, the phoenix will seal his wound, but we have to get the object out first. Then your magic will be able to work, it will strengthen him. 

“We’ll work together, have you got it? That’s right, just pull gently. Is the wound clean? Use Accio to make sure that there is nothing else in there, no nasty stuff, and a quick Scourgify, that’s right, well done! Now put your hands here, yes, just here and press, love, hard.”

Eileen was telling Harry what to do; he looked so young and pale. He looked like a lost little boy. Then Severus realised with a bit of a jolt that that was just what Harry was. He was a little boy, he was lost and frightened, he needed Severus didn’t he? Needed him safe and well and there to support him. Severus felt all warm inside, he felt wanted.

“That’s it love, Fawkes has sealed the wound, now you can pour magic in, that’s it, that’s right.”

All at once Severus was infused with light, and energy. Oh Merlin, it felt wonderful! This magical energy, Severus had never felt anything like it in his life before. This was what Eileen had felt. Draco too. Pure healing energy. It smelt and tasted, like Harry. 

He was going to be all right, he was going to be fine. Severus was being bathed in goodness, in tenderness, in love. Apart from the fact that he was completely exhausted he had never felt better in his entire life.

 

 

“You can stop now love.”

Harry was still concentrating on Severus, pouring strength into him, trying to show him that he loved him.

“Harry?” Eileen’s hand was on his, her voice gentle and concerned. “You did it love, you and Fawkes, he is going to be fine.”

Harry looked at his gran

“Are you sure? He asked, peering closely at Severus, trying to check that she spoke the truth, hardly daring to believe it. Fawkes gave a final high warble. He had been singing all along, and now he flew to a nearby bench and started to preen his feathers

“Aye, love, I’m sure, he’ll be fine.”

“We’ll look after him, son.” It was a healer who had spoken, the man was kneeling beside him, gazing intently at him. Harry hadn’t noticed the healers arrive, or come over. “We’ll look after him,” the man said. 

“He’s my uncle.” Harry told them, earnestly, “he is very important to me; you won’t let him be hurt will you?” 

“No we’ll take care of him. What’s your name lad?”

“It’s Harry, Harry Potter,” said a new voice. The man’s eyes widened and did the usual glance up to look at Harry’s scar. Harry was still covered in all sorts of grim and muck, the sticky goo from the veil, the dust which had covered him and now Severus’ blood too. He wondered who had spoken.

It was Sirius. Sirius was there!

“Sorry Mr Potter,” the other healer said, as they gently lowered Severus on to a stretcher, so that they could carry him outside, it floated gently beside them at waist height. “We didn’t know it was you," the man continued, "didn’t recognise you. He’ll be safe, I promise he will.”

Then Eileen was standing and telling Harry that she would just be with Severus for a while, that she would be back soon and that both Severus and Harry would be just fine.

Harry wanted to ask her if he could come too, tell her that he was frightened to be left alone, because they had nearly lost Severus just when he had thought that it was all over and he didn’t want to lose sight of his uncle and his gran.

But there was a hand on his shoulder, that squeezed gently and a another hand slipped in his own. The hand that held his, belonged to Draco, but the other hand, the one on his shoulder, that belonged to Sirius.

Sirius was awake and here and Harry had forgotten!

“Sirius!” he said. Sirius had seen everything. He had heard Harry screaming his uncle’s name, had seen his desperation.

“Hi kid.” Sirius said, smiling at him, “looks to me like I have missed quite a lot of stuff, looks like you care a lot for old Snape then?”

Harry couldn’t speak, he just nodded

“Let’s get you out of here pup, seems like you’ll fall over if we don’t get you to bed soon.”

“I can look after him!” It was Draco who spoke this time, rather imperiously Harry thought. 

“I am sure you can. But I’d like to help too.” Then Harry was swept up into strong arms which seemed to belong to Kingsley Shacklebolt and carried from the chamber. He couldn’t have fought anyone now, even if Voldemort had suddenly been resurrected and had stood before him, he was too weak to even struggle, so he relaxed and let himself be taken care of.

He didn’t even think that he could speak. Instead he let himself be carried away from the site of the final battle in the strong arms of the tall Auror and as they walked though the Ministry he listened to his godfather and Draco talking to eachother, making introductions. He wanted to listen, to find out what was said, to hear what his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s cousin.... _' Draco was Sirius’ sort of cousin wasn’t he?_ ' Harry thought, rather fuzzily. He wondered what they would make of each other, but he couldn’t concentrate. It was as if their voices drifted away from him and before he knew it he was asleep.


	50. Chapter Fifty

Sorry about the long absence folks, have been away. This chapter is a bit shorter that the last two but this was a natural break. The next chapter is just about written so I'll get that up asap. Just a couple more chappies now to the end. Lots of help form Claudia on this again. Did I tell you I loved you babe? ~ Lucie

BTW thanks again for all the reviews. I get to them individually as soon as I can, but thank you all so much for your kind words.

 

It was the tingly feeling of repeated Scourgifying charms that woke Harry in the end. 

Blinking his eyes he recognised the familiar ceiling of the Hogwarts infirmary, even without his glasses. As soon as his head cleared enough to remember what had happened he immediately asked after Severus. He needed to know that his uncle was okay and it wasn’t until he had been assured that Severus was just down the corridor, perfectly safe, but deeply asleep, being watched over by Eileen that he was able to relax. Draco said that Kingsley had thought that the infirmary was the best place for both Harry and Severus to be, as St Mungo’s was currently too public, too exposed and far too crowded. They had also been sure that both Harry and Severus would much prefer to be at Hogwarts than St Mungo's.

Harry thought that the hospital must be in absolute mayhem, because in his opinion his room here at Hogwarts was pretty crowded. Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Luna, Draco and Madam Pomfrey were all standing around Harry’s bed. Apparently Eileen had been there for a short while as well; she was back with Severus right now but had promised to return shortly.

Apparently it was Poppy Pomfrey who had tried to Scourgefy Harry, to take away some of the dried on mess which was clogging his hair and had set like concrete on his skin. But the goo wasn’t moving and all the repeated used of the charm had succeeded in doing was to finally wake him up.

“It’s called ectoplasm, Harry.” Hermione said as Harry picked at the stuff on his skin, “The substance that you are covered in.” Harry had had to stifle a laugh at the fact that both Draco and Ron wore identical expressions of astonishment when Hermione spoke. 

“Do you know something about every useless bit of useless trivia, that we might ever discover, Granger?” Draco asked. “What the fuck is ectoplasm?”

Hermione looked disgruntled. “Well if you are going to be like that I shan’t tell you.”

“Sorry,” Draco said, and Harry thought that he did look genuinely contrite. “I’ve never even heard of ectoplasm, that’s all, and you just produce this stuff like some sort of walking encyclopaedia, no wonder I couldn’t keep up with you at school.”

Hermione smiled, and Harry squeezed Draco’s hand gratefully. He thought that Draco’s comment showed just how much the other boy had matured this year. There was a time when his lover would rather have removed his own tongue than said anything nice about Hermione, even if it was in a rather backhanded way. Harry thought that Draco appeared to be very jumpy and tense, which was hardly surprising considering the events of the past few hours and it seemed to Harry that it was simply an ingrained habit of Draco’s to be sarcastic and snappy and hide behind his trademark sneer when he was tense, a sneer that wasn’t usually so apparent these days. 

Harry wished that his room would empty out a bit, that even his dearest friends would give him a little space. He thought he could identify Draco’s feelings so easily because he was feeling something similar himself right now, he just wanted to be alone with Draco and kiss away that tiny frown line that had taken up residence between Draco’s eyebrows and then maybe snuggle together and sleep.

But Draco had obviously said enough for Hermione to forgive him his snappiness as she was continuing her lecture. “Ectoplasm, is a psychic material, it was probably what the veil was constructed of and it is probably also the substance which allows ghosts like Nearly Headless Nick to be seen in the mundane world, it is possible that wizards and witches have some sort of sensitivity to it and that is why we can see ghosts when Muggles rarely do. 

“When it initially appears it is like a slimy sort of mucus and that is what Harry is currently covered in. But as it solidifies, it transforms into a gauzy material, just like the muslin-like curtain that separated this world from the other side. Unfortunately the ectoplasm that covers Harry has been mixed with blood and rubble and that seems to have changed its chemistry, which is probably what is making it difficult for us to remove it.

“Even Muggles have some have some idea that ectoplasm exists, although they have discredited it to a great extent. The belief in the spirit world, the borderlands between the world as we know it and the other side was at it’s zenith in Britain and America just after the First World War. So many Muggles lost sons in the battlefields of Europe that the belief that there was a way to communicate with them became strong and all pervasive.”

Harry thought that Ron and Draco probably had no idea what the First World War was, unless it had had some impact on the Magical World that he didn’t know about. But neither of them had said anything, they were both staring at Hermione in bemused fascination. So Harry kept quiet and just let Hermione go on with her monologue.

“ Unfortunately many unscrupulous Muggles took advantage of those desperate to communicate with their sons and faked ectoplasm so that the existence of the substance became disputed. But as you can see from the gunk that covers Harry, it does actually exist.”

“Oh,” Harry finally managed to say, “well it is really scratchy on my skin and I just wish that it would go away.”

“It’s alright Harry,” it was Sirius who spoke this time. “Poppy says that you can use the bathroom here at the hospital wing. I am going for a shower myself.” Harry had forgotten that Sirius was also covered in the same thick substance that he was. He didn’t quite know what to say to the other man, now that he was alive again. Time after time he had held conversations in his head with Sirius. 

But with his real, live, living and breathing godfather standing in front of him, all that Harry could actually say was, “Erm thanks.” 

“Do you want my help?” Sirius said. 

Harry blushed a deep brick red at the thought of his godfather bathing him, but it was Draco who spoke.

“I’ll take care of Harry,” he said somewhat stiffly.

Sirius merely nodded, and then turned to Hermione, “you’ll have to tell us more about your theories on the veil tomorrow, Hermione,” he said. “I need a bath too. I smell almost as bad as the pup does, like rotting seaweed.”

“Mmmm,” Hermione said, “All the books say that ectoplasm smells like ozone, the smell is part of what convinced me of its existence. Luna and I noticed that the chamber smelt distantly of the sea the last time that we were there and so we researched ectoplasm before Harry went beyond the veil.”

“We wouldn’t have let Harry go through the portal without at least having an idea about what it was made from,” Luna said simply. She smiled at Hermione and Hermione smiled back at the other girl. Once upon a time those two had heartily disliked each other, Harry thought. That was something else that had changed in recent months.

Harry was very tired, but he was immensely cheered to see the look of fond exasperation that Ron and Draco shared. Funny that something like a bloody war and a shared near death experience had worn down the barriers between the boys, but it had, and Harry was hopeful that his best friend and his lover had embarked upon on tentative friendship. The last few weeks had broken down a lot of barriers, old quarrels and petty enmities didn’t seem so important somehow when you were fighting for your life and the lives of those you loved. Harry wondered how many other relationships would change now that Voldemort was truly dead. 

He leaned heavily on Draco as the other boy walked him to the bathroom, it was harder this way but Harry didn’t want to be levitated. He wanted to get there on his own two feet, even if it meant that Draco bore much of the burden. And Draco truly didn’t seem to mind.

Harry went to the loo first, it seemed to take him ages to get his hands even marginally clean when he washed them, which didn’t bode well for a bath or shower in his opinion. But then his hands were shaking and he was very tired.

Draco undressed Harry tenderly, looking at him lovingly and vanishing each garment as he removed it. Harry’s body was still fairly clean. His clothing, hair and face were filthy, but his body had been protected and Harry shuddered deliciously as Draco kissed him gently as each piece of clothing was removed.

“Oh Merlin, Harry, you are so fucking beautiful!” Draco breathed.

Harry blushed. He still didn’t quite believe the other boy. Harry thought he was quite scrawny and undersized. But Draco always looked at him with such loving admiration that a very small part of him was beginning to believe that maybe what Draco said was true. In Harry’s eyes it was Draco who was the beautiful one.

He reached up to run his fingers through Draco’s silky hair, looked in wonder at those luminous silver eyes with their long silken lashes. He wanted to kiss the other boy, hold him. But Sirius was right, Harry was dirty and smelly, he needed to get clean, and then maybe, he could do what he really, really wanted to do right now, which was kiss Draco senseless.

He showered first, to try and remove some of the worst of the dirt, lathering his hair, with a special shampoo that Draco had produced. The shower cubicle was easily large enough for them both, but for some reason Draco stayed outside and waited, the blond boy seemed nervous, unsettled. Harry didn’t blame him, he felt a bit like that himself. They had been naked together a lot of times, but there was something strangely even more intimate about helping someone bathe.

As Harry stepped out of the shower cubicle Draco held out a large white fluffy towel, which Harry used to rub himself dry before he was helped over to the bath where he sank contentedly into the warm soapy water. The bath was filled with millions of foamy bubbles and Draco helped him into the water, kissing him gently as Harry stiffly lowered himself down.

He leant back against the sloped side of the bath and closed his eyes. It felt wonderful, the comforting warmth of the water, soaking into his aching bones. His ribs had been broken, so Madam Pomfrey had said. Three ribs, his tibia and his collarbone. Harry also had deep bruising in his kidneys and his spleen and despite the fact that she had fixed the damage he would still be sore for several days. Being pulled through the veil had done a lot of damage to Harry and it was not an experience he ever wanted to repeat, but he had done it, he had saved Sirius and that made every broken bone and bad bruise well worth it in Harry’s opinion.

Most of Harry’s medical care had been done whilst he was asleep. But Madam Pomfrey had had to wait until Harry had awakened before asking him questions to assess his brain function. The mediwitch had seemed reluctant to let Harry out of her sight for long enough to bathe, but Harry couldn’t bear the horrible scratchy substance that still covered his skin any longer, and Draco had promised to look after him and then both boys had been backed up by Sirius, who had insisted that he couldn’t bear to be covered in the noxious substances any longer either. Of course, Madame Pomfrey was not as worried about Sirius as the animagus had escaped from the veil relatively unharmed, it had been Harry who had come through first and therefore, Harry who had taken a battering.

When Harry opened his eyes again he saw that Draco was leaning on the side of the bath, his cheek resting on one arm. Harry smiled at him.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

Draco looked puzzled for a second. “Is that a Muggle saying?” he asked. Harry didn’t speak, he just nodded instead.

“I was thinking that it is late, and that at this time last night I was trying not to think about today. That I somehow knew that you would meet him, and that it would all be over. But somehow it seems like such an anticlimax, he died so easily in the end, didn’t he? It almost doesn’t seem real somehow. I was so scared Harry and now it is all over and I just don’t know what I feel anymore.”

“Yeah, I know, me too.”

Harry reached over and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair again, gently, combing it, playing with it. Draco’s eyes filled with tears.

“I thought that I was going to lose you, Harry.” 

“Oh Draco!” Harry said as he kissed him. The water was making him feel relaxed and a little light headed. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Draco had moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bath and it was not much of an effort to gently tug him into the water.

Draco spluttered in surprise as Harry pulled him into the bath.

“Prat!” he said, slapping Harry playfully. “My clothes are all wet now!”

“Oh dear,” Harry said, well we can’t have that now can we?” With a wicked smile on his face, he vanished everything that Draco was wearing, so that he could feel Draco’s silky smooth skin against his own.

“Mmmm, that’s better.” 

Draco smiled. “Pervert!” He said. “You just wanted to get me naked didn’t you?”

Oh yessss!” Harry whispered, kissing Draco gently, nibbling at his boyfriend’s flesh. Draco was quite simply delicious. And then Draco was kissing him back.

“It is over, Draco! All over. We have the rest of our lives together and I want to celebrate.”

Draco had been wriggling against him, but all at once he stopped and stared at him. “Harry, do you mean that?” Draco’s eyes bore into his, solemn, serious.

Harry grinned, “Do I mean that I want to celebrate?”

Draco hit him again.

“Or do I mean that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?”

Draco nodded tightly and looked away.

Harry reached up and took Draco’s chin in his hand, slowly he turned his lover’s face so that their eyes met again.

“I love you, Draco.” He said, “I love you with all of my heart, of course I want to spend the rest of my live with you. If you’ll have me that is?”

Draco let out a kind of strangled sob and then he was showering Harry with kisses.

Harry had already begun to soap himself up so he was slick and Draco moved against him easily in a slippery sort of way. Draco was kissing him, sliding down Harry’s chest, his hair was wet and lay back slick against his head. Harry thought that he looked gorgeous.

Draco’s cock was hard against Harry’s own. The warmth of the water, the slickness of whatever substance that Draco had added, made Draco’s skin feel even silkier than it normally did, especially his cock. They were rubbing against each other and the beautiful friction was making Harry’s toes curl, the water sloshing gently against them, supporting Draco’s weight to some extent, pouring into the spaces between them adding to the gloriousness that was Draco’s skin against his own.

“Oh, Merlin!” Harry breathed, closing his eyes and throwing back his head, giving himself completely to the sensations that were washing over his body.

He was running his hands over Draco then and Draco was moaning and writhing against him and Harry was feeling hot and sensual and the stimulation that surrounded him, the water, Draco’s body slick against his own, the friction that was caused by Draco’s body against his cock, all of these were freezing Harry’s mind, so that he didn’t have to think anymore, so that he could just feel and then he was coming, orgasming hard. And long. And fucking fantastically.

He threw back his head and shouted his completion and then Draco was doing the same, before he sagged against Harry, cheeks tinged with pink, eyes closed, lips parted enticingly.

“I love you Draco,” Harry said again, this time placing a tender kiss on those tempting lips.

Draco kissed him on the chest, and then nuzzled him. “I love you too, Harry.” He said, and then. “Did you notice that it’s gone?” Draco continued, almost in a whisper.

“What’s gone?” Harry asked, a tiny amount of curiosity piercing his languor.

“The Dark Mark. You can’t even see where it used to be.”

Draco lifted his arm for Harry to inspect. 

Harry took the bare forearm reverently.

“Oh good,” he said as he kissed it gently. “It wasn’t who you were anymore anyway.”

Draco cried a little bit when Harry said that, fat, wet tears which ran unchecked down his cheeks, until Harry kissed them away, stroking his hair again and whispering his love once more.

They lay together, arms wrapped around each other for some considerable time. Harry just listened to Draco’s breathing and revelled in feeling the sweet weight of the man that he loved, even if he did press against Harry’s bruises a little, Harry found he didn’t mind the soreness when it was caused by Draco..

Eventually they got out of the bath. The room was lovely and warm, still heated by the steam from their leisurely bath. Harry felt less exhausted than before, he was just tired now, very, very tired, but no longer liable to collapse at any moment. The combination of the lovely hot water, charmed to stay that way and whatever potions Draco had used to make the water so silky and so full of effervescent bubbles had soothed his aches and pains.

Before he knew it he and Draco were curled up in Harry’s hospital bed. Draco’s head was on Harry’s shoulder and he was fast asleep.

“Well, well Mr Potter,” I don’t know if you will be very comfortable like that.” It was Poppy Pomfrey who had spoken. Harry’s heart sank, he knew this wasn’t allowed, that any second now the nurse would wake Draco up and shoo him away, but just for a moment he wished that things could be otherwise.

He was tired of fighting, of having to fight. Harry looked up at her through eyes that were heavy with exhaustion. He was clean at last and tired and sated and right now he was comfortable and he felt safe and loved and those feelings were so new to Harry that he really wanted them to last just a tiny bit longer.

As he watched her and tried to summon some energy to fight against her he thought that she smiled at him, he thought that she gently brushed his hair from his forehead and he thought that his bed suddenly grew somewhat larger.

But he must have been imagining it, he decided because surely there was no way that the stern faced matron from Hogwarts Infirmary had tucked him up in bed with his lover and left them both to sleep. Surely not, no way, not in a million years.


	51. Chapter Fifty-one

Thanks Claudia for betaing and giving me so much support. There are two more chapters to go, they just need betaing and editing so they will hopefully be up tomorrow or the next day. ~ Lucie

 

Fifty One.

 

In the morning Harry felt stiff and sore again.

Draco had gone to help Eileen and Hermione brew potions and Severus had not awoken yet. Madam Pomfrey was not worried, she insisted that she had given Severus a sleeping draught and a blood replenishing potion and the two would keep him asleep until early afternoon at least.

Molly had been in to see him, she had insisted that he wear a new jumper that she had knitted. It was a blue one, plain this time. She had seemed hugely releaved when he had put it on. He thought that she was still trying to say that she was sorry, but when she had hugged him, her eyes full of tears and thanked him for the lives of her children, Harry had not known what to say. In the end, he had told her that blue was his favourite colour and eventually she had gone away, apparently happily enough.

Eileen had been in to see him as well, she had told him that the sheer number of injured people meant that she had to help brew potions but had offered to stay with Harry if he wanted her to. Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat at his Gran making the offer, Harry had nonetheless told her that he would be fine and of course she had to make potions for the injured. She given him a loving smile at that and told him that she had organised a rota of people to sit with Severus and that Harry should take it easy and just rest.

But Harry could not just lie on his bed and do nothing when everyone else was busy, so he went to see how his uncle was doing, and whether he had woken up yet.

Luna and Winky were currently sitting on the only chairs in Severus’ room. Apparently it was Luna’s turn to sit with Severus, and she was teaching Winky to knit.

So Harry felt at a loose end, he wanted to be in there with Severus too. Actually he wanted to send Luna away, but she seemed so content. Nobody it seemed, needed his help right now. Ron and Hermione and some of the others had gone to help clean up the Ministry. Twenty-nine people had died the day before, seventeen of them Death Eaters. There had indeed been a battle before Voldemort’s forces had reached the chamber which had contained the veil. The worst of the deaths was a seven year old girl, who had come to visit her father. Harry had felt awful when Kingsley told him, but the big Auror had insisted that it was not Harry’s fault, that thanks to him the war was over, all the other Death Eaters had been captured, and there was no-longer any need to fight. That thanks to Harry no more children were going to die in a pointless war, no more families would be destroyed.

Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t want to rest, he almost welcomed the lingering soreness in fact, because it made yesterday seem more real, the odd twinge or sharp pain told Harry better than anything that the battle, the veil and the destruction of Voldemort, were not a dream. But everyone else was busy or being useful and Harry didn’t have a use anymore, not now that Voldemort was dead. So he stood by the door of his uncle’s room and watched the other man sleep, watched Luna show Winky how to cast on knitting stitches.

“You really care about him, don’t you Harry?” Harry had been so engrossed in his thoughts and watching Severus sleep that he hadn’t heard Sirius come up behind him and he jumped when the other man spoke.

“He has been good to you hasn’t he?” Harry turned to look at his godfather. He nodded tightly, Severus had been more than good to him, he had been like a father in recent weeks or, at least the closest thing to a father that Harry had ever known.

“I am sorry, Harry.” Sirius said, “it should have been me who supported you, guided you to the final battle.”

“No!” Harry said, “it wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I believed Voldemort, I should have realised it was trick, it was my fault that you were there, my fault that you died!”

Sirius reached over and gently touched Harry’s cheek.

“Will you come and talk to me, Harry?” Sirius asked.

Harry stiffened, he really didn’t want to do this, he didn’t know what they could say to each other, how Sirius would ever forgive him…

“It was not your fault, Harry,” Sirius said again. He took Harry’s hand and led him along the corridor and back to Harry’s room. The bed had been shrunk back to its normal size and since Harry could not imagine Madam Pomfrey ever being as relaxed as she had been the night before, he was sure that tonight he would have to sleep alone. She was determined that Harry should stay at least one more night, ‘for observation,’ she’d said and Harry couldn’t deny that he did still feel very sore.

He sat on the bed and Sirius sat on the low armless chair that was the only other available place to sit in the room. 

Harry put his hands in his lap and looked at them, so that he didn’t need to look at his godfather.

“I am not going to make trouble for Snape, Harry,” Sirius said. 

Harry let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“I can see that you care for him. Remus and I talked for a long time last night. I…I couldn’t sleep and Remus was in too much pain, but he refused to be drugged, he wanted to talk. Pomfrey got to him this morning, said he needed to rest. Slathered him in a gold coloured salve and forced him to drink a dreamless sleep potion. That woman is a terror when she wants to be.”

Harry felt awash with guilt again and jumped to his feet. “Oh God, and I haven’t been to see him yet, poor Remus!” 

“Sit down, Harry, he is asleep now, remember? According to Poppy he will be out at least until dinner time.”

He looked directly at Harry again, his eyes searching for something, Harry wasn’t sure what.

“She says that you are the best healer that she has ever seen. Lily would have been so proud. James too. Do you realise how well you’ve done, Harry ? What a fine man you’ve grown into?”

Harry’s eyes felt prickly with tears, but he wasn’t going to cry, he told himself firmly, he’d cried too much lately.

“Remus told me a lot of what these past few months, no years, have been like for you, about your time with those awful relatives.” Sirius’ eyes flashed with anger. “I should have there for you Pup, I shouldn’t have been so fucking hot-headed and got myself landed in Azkaban.”

“Sorry,” Harry said again.

“Harry, kid,” Sirius’ voice was softer, more gentle than Harry had ever heard it. “Watch my lips. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault.”

“But..”

Sirius moved from the chair, he came and sat beside Harry and put a finger to Harry’s lips. Harry stiffened, but Sirius said just a single word.

“No.”

For a moment Harry couldn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say. Sirius really meant it, didn’t he? Maybe, now that Sirius was back, Harry could let go of the guilt a little bit? But he was still worried; there were still questions he had to ask.

“Will you..erm, now that you’re back will you have to return to prison?” he asked.

“Nah Pettigrew’s dead. Kingsley says that that his body is enough to clear me.”

Harry stiffened again, this time in shock.

“Didn’t anyone tell you?” and when Harry shook his head, “your boyfriend’s father killed him, he was the one who hurt Remus.”

“Lucius?” Harry wondered how the still injured man had accomplished that feat and then felt another wave of guilt over what had happened to both Lucius and Remus.

“And stop looking so guilty. What happened to Remus was not your fault, nor was what happened to me, or any of the others who died, or your Mum and Dad for that matter and you had better believe that I will keep saying this, until I have worn you down so much that one day you’ll believe me. I can be very persistent you know,” Sirius grinned but there was a determination in his eyes that told Harry his godfather meant what he said.

Harry smiled, he did feel a little bit lighter, a little less responsible somehow. It really was good to have Sirius here; he was so full of understanding, so caring somehow. Harry had forgotten his humour, the way that Sirius made him smile.

“You are amazing, kid!” Sirius continued, “you have stood between this world and evil for far too long, and for much of the time you were alone.”

“I wasn’t!” Harry said, “there was Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione and…..”

“A manipulative old man and two children, Harry? When you should have had, at the very least, the support of a loving family? 

“Remus has told me the difference that Snape has made to you, and with him, Eileen Prince and Draco Malfoy in your life, he says you’ve been like a different boy in the last few weeks. He says that you have become a man with their help. 

“Snape is your uncle, a blood relative you can apparently depend on, something that you should have had all along. I can hardly believe it myself, the greasy git is Lily’s brother!”

Harry scowled and to his surprise Sirius flushed.

He was quiet for a moment, but when Harry didn’t speak, he continued.

“I have missed a lot haven’t I? I don’t think that I really understand it all. Some of what has happened to you I saw from beyond the veil, I saw you hug Snape, I saw you heal his mother, I didn’t quite know what was happening, because it was like fragments of a dream. But now that I am here I can see that you care for him. I watched you standing there in his doorway and the look on your face, it was so tender, Harry! Merlin, if you ever looked at me like that! Everything has changed so much.”

Sirius trailed off then, stopped speaking; it was his turn to look at his hands.

Harry cleared his throat.

“I was dying,” he said, “the day that Severus came to the Dursley’s. They always hated me, never tried to help me. I was very ill, I know that now, I didn’t know what to do anymore, how to fight it all.”

Harry saw the flash of anger in his godfather’s eyes again and he blushed.

“When I was a little boy, I couldn’t understand why they didn’t love me.” Harry wrapped his arms around himself, he couldn’t look at Sirius but ,from the corner of his eye he saw his godfather stiffen in his turn. But Harry had to tell him this, he had to explain to him how he felt about Severus and Eileen, how things had changed, so he carried on.

“I tried so hard to get them to at least like me, but they never would. Then Hagrid came, and I found out about this world, about magic, and things changed. I finally found friends and people who seemed to like me, and even though there was an evil bastard out to kill me, and even though some people seemed to hate me, it was better somehow.”

“But the people that hated you included Snape and Malfoy!” Sirius said, he sounded indignant on Harry’s behalf, it almost made Harry smile.

“Yeah, but they don’t anymore. They both did something that the Dursley’s never did. They got over their hatred and things are different now. They’ve changed, I’ve changed too.

“I love Draco.” His eyes met Sirius’ for a moment; he wanted to show his godfather how serious he was. “I will always love Draco. But Severus? For ages I still didn’t like him, or trust him. Somewhere in the past few months, though, I have come….I have come to care for him very much indeed. 

“He saved my life again, but he has been doing that for years. But that time at the Dursley’s ...when I was ill he carried me to bed, and he brushed my hair out of my eyes and he talked to me. He listened too. He stopped seeing my dad in me I think and he saw me instead. My dad was such a prat to him, you all were and it just wasn’t right!”

Harry felt a flash of anger; he looked at Sirius again and was surprised to see that his godfather seemed genuinely contrite.

“We were shitty to him, Harry.” Sirius admitted, “We all were. And he was shitty back. But we grew out of it you know!”

Harry felt a bit sceptical at Sirius’ words, his godfather might have thought that he had stopped picking on Severus but Harry could still remember the pointed barbs that had seemed to strike home so often at Grimmauld Place. But maybe Sirius didn’t count those, as Severus had appeared to give as good as he got, and there had only ever been the two of them who had indulged in their heated spats.

Perhaps he was talking about the bullying, because that was indeed what had happened to Severus, he had been bullied and Harry knew what that felt like better than anyone..

“Four against one, Sirius.” Harry said, “How was that ever fair? How could you think it was?”

Sirius smiled.

“Merlin, Harry,” he said. “Sometimes when I look at you, even now, you still look so much like your dad, that it takes my breath away. But I wonder if I ever really knew you before? Because in other ways, you are so like Lily! That was just the sort of thing she would have said, did say in fact, lots and lots of times. She always defended him, she never stopped, even when he wouldn’t speak to her anymore.

“We were prats you know, me and James. But we did grow up and change,” his smile turned bitter for a moment, “well at least James did. He was a very good man, your father. Do you really think that someone like your mum could have loved him the way she did - and she really did love him, Harry - if he hadn’t changed? He was brave and fair and fiercely loyal. He was never prejudiced and he always tried to fight for the underdog.”

“He wasn’t like that with Severus!” Harry said, stubbornly. He had never forgotten that scene in the pensieve, the petty cruelty of it. And it still hit far too close to home, reminding him of the times he had fallen victim to Dudley and his gang.

“He was never like that with anyone else.” Sirius whispered that last sentence. “Don’t you know what it was, Harry, that made him hate Snape like he did, well apart from the dark arts knowledge that he flaunted so much?”

“ No?” 

“James was jealous.” 

Harry felt his jaw drop.

But Sirius continued quickly, “Oh not of material stuff, or anything like that. Snape had Lily. She loved him you know? They made friends when they were eleven years old and nothing would shake Lily’s loyalty. James liked Lily, she fascinated him, even when they were little kids, she had an energy about her, a fierce love of life. You have it too, but Lily didn't want to know him, she thought he was a prat, told him so often enough and then went back to her friend Snape. James hated him for that, hated the fact that for years she seemed to think that James was a shallow, egotistical prat and yet she loved Snape unconditionally. After the whole thing with Remus, Lily saw a different side to James, a caring side. But when she fell for James, Snape never forgave her, not until it was too late anyway.

“The irony of it all was that Lily loved Snape like a brother, and all the time he actually was her fucking brother!” Sirius gave a bitter laugh. “For fuck’s sake! If only we had fucking known!”

“Would it really have changed things that much?” Harry asked curiously.

Sirius’ eyes when he met Harry’s were rimmed with red, he swallowed hard.

“I really don’t know kid, I just don’t know. I think that James might have been a bit more, I don’t know. A bit kinder, less antagonistic. If he had known he might have made more of an effort to be nicer to Snape at least when he first fell for Lily, though I doubt they would ever have been friends.”

“His name is Severus,” Harry said, “and he is a very good man.”

Sirius looked at Harry for a very long time, Harry could see all kinds of emotions flitting across his godfather’s face, he couldn’t identify them all but he saw that at least one was sorrow, and another was regret.

“I know he is, and I can see that you care for him. I am sorry, Harry.” Sirius said simply, “I am not going to try and make problems, Pup. I want to be a part of your life but if there isn’t a role for me right now, that’s okay. I just want you to be happy. 

“After all, Harry, what you have given me is something that no man would ever expect. A second chance at life. I’m not going to waste it, not this time.”

“Oh Sirius!” Harry didn’t quite know what to say and then settled for the truth. “I am so glad that you are back, I missed you so much!” This time the tears did fall, and before he could say anything else he was in his godfather’s arms and being held tight and he was sobbing, and all the while Sirius just held him whilst Harry cried with all his heart, for all that might have been.

 

 

When Severus woke up, Harry was sitting in the chair by his bed.

His mouth was dry and he couldn’t speak. But Harry seemed to know exactly what to do. He brought a glass of cool water to Severus lips and placed a straw in his mouth. Severus thought wryly that undoubtedly Harry knew just what one needed most after being unconscious; he had had plenty of practice after all.

“Are you all right, Harry?” he asked, the boy’s eyes were red and his face was blotchy, he looked as if he had been crying.

Harry nodded.

“Are you?” he asked, his eyes were shadowed with worry. “I thought that I had lost you, Severus,” he said, his voice quiet and gentle.

Then Severus remembered. Harry’s panic, his tears when he thought that Severus was dying. Remembering, he felt warmed all over again by Harry’s concern, his obvious regard for him, Severus Snape. When Sirius Black had come through the veil, Severus had thought that Harry would rush to his godfather, that Severus’ own part in his life would be over, or at least much curtailed. But Harry’s reaction when Severus had collapsed, he hadn’t expected that at all.

Harry’s words came back to him, words about Severus. “I need him, _I love him_ It was never meant to be an exchange.”

Severus’ chest felt tight.

“I feel somewhat sore today,” he replied dryly, “but then I am sure you feel a little tender yourself?”

Harry smiled a little grimly and then ducked his head, “Yeah, I do a bit.”

Severus cleared his throat.

“Er, how is your godfather?” Severus did not want to see Harry turn away, did not want the boy to snap at him, but he also had to know how Harry felt, whether now that Severus was awake again Harry would want to return to Sirius Black, he steeled himself to not to say a word if that is what Harry wanted to do.

But Harry looked at him steadily, green eyes unwavering. He seemed to know what Severus was really asking.

“He is fine,” Harry gave a short laugh, “better than me in fact. He … he said that he would not interfere, Severus. He said he appreciates all that you have done. And erm, so do I.”

Harry ran his hand through his hair, so that it stood up at odd angles all over his head. “I’m glad you are okay.” The boy hesitated, clearly wanting to say his next words but embarrassed to as well. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you had been killed. You mean an awful lot to me you know?”

He reached over and patted, his uncle’s arm. “I told Sirius that I won’t allow him to upset you.”

If Severus had not been in bed right then, he probably would have collapsed at Harry’s words. Even now, even with the return of his godfather, Harry’s only link to his father, someone he cared about deeply, he didn’t seem to be about to turn away from Severus. It seemed he really was not going to lose Harry’s regard or his support.

When Lily had fallen in love with James, Severus had not been able to forgive her, he’d lost her to the boy he hated the most, whatever she had said to the contrary. But with Harry it was different wasn’t it? Harry wasn’t in love with Black and it appeared that he had told the other man that Severus was important to him.

A part of Severus’ heart that had never really recovered from what he still viewed, even after all these years, as Lily’s betrayal suddenly felt less sore.

“I..er….Um thank you, Harry,” he said. Severus felt battered and bruised, but he had been in worse pain. He wanted to get out of bed, to hold his nephew, prove to himself that Harry was indeed real, that this brave, fiercely loyal boy was still defending him, that he probably always would.

Then the door opened and Eileen came in, full of delight to see Severus awake and Harry bolted. He was bright red when he left the room and Eileen stared after him in astonishment. “Is he okay, Sev?” she asked. Severus just nodded. He felt lighter than he had in a long, long time. He doubted that Harry would ever be as candid as he had been in those few moments when he had thought Severus was dying, but Severus didn’t care. Harry cared about him, it was evident in his actions and his eyes. He wasn’t going to lose Harry to Black. “I think he’ll be fine, Mum.” He answered, his voice was somewhat scratchy and he felt like he had been trampled by one of Hagrid’s insane beasts. But he also thought that things between him and Harry at least were going to be fine.

 

Harry ran, he ran out of the castle and down to the lake, away from Severus and Eileen, away from Sirius, away from Remus and Pomfrey and the Weasleys. He threw himself on the ground under the big, old oak tree that stood close to the water’s edge. For a moment back at the castle, just after he had left Severus’ room, he had felt a wave of bitterness so strong, so overwhelming that he thought he might drown

He had a family now, fuck there were hundreds of people all caring about him, worried about him, wanting to help.

But he was seventeen now, an adult in the wizarding world, he didn’t need them anymore did he? Ron and Hermione had been there since he was little boy, and Draco too in his own perverse way. He had been his enemy since they were eleven years old, he had never let up on the taunts and the hatred, and hatred was close to love wasn’t it? Well sometimes anyway. Harry was under no illusions that Snape had loved him ever! Well before this year anyway. He started at that thought, Severus loved him now though didn’t he, he really, really did and so did Eileen.

But why now? Where the fuck were they all when he was four years old and stuck in his cupboard so hungry that he couldn’t even think? Or when he was eight and Aunt Marge’s dog had bitten him? Or ten and he had spent three weeks locked away in the middle of the summer for accidentally setting a snake on his cousin. Why weren’t they there when he had felt freakish and lonely and uncared for, why now when it was too late?

But what Harry had told Sirius was true, he would not have survived the Dursley’s this summer, at least not with his magic intact if it had not been for Severus. Severus hadn’t been too late. And the way that his grandmother looked at him, Harry felt warm inside just thinking about his grandmother. As far as he was concerned she was perfect. For a second he wished that she could have told Severus years ago, that Lily could have known about their relationship too. That maybe James and Severus could have overcome their hatred of one another. For a second Harry thought about how his life could have been different if he had been loved, had had a loving family.

But that was not what had happened and Harry was not someone to give into regret. He had survived, he had people who cared for him now, even if he didn’t quite know how to deal with it all, or how he might truly reconcile them all to each other. But then he had a thought. It struck him with all the force of a bludger. He didn’t have to do it alone! They would work things out, he didn’t have to struggle on alone any more, he had someone he could turn to if he needed too. Lots of someones.

“You alright mate?” Harry blinked and looked up; it was Ron who had spoken. His friend’s face was full of concern and Harry realised that his face was streaked with tears yet again. Ron and Hermione stood close together, they were holding hands.

Harry nodded and they both moved over to sit beside him. Hermione, reached out and took Harry’s hand too.

“You must be exhausted, Harry,” she said.

“Want a chocolate frog?” Ron asked, emptying a bag of them onto the grass in front of them all.

Harry laughed, some things never changed, like Ron’s addiction to sweets or the fact that they were still here, still with him and supporting him after all this time.

Then all at once Harry knew it really and truly was going to be all right, Voldemort was dead and Harry could really have a life. He had a family, he had friends, he had, 

“Draco.”

The blond boy stood a little to one side, a short distance away. He had a closed look on his face, as if unsure about his welcome.

“Hi,” Harry said warmly and Draco smiled, a tiny little smile

“Um, I wonder if I might join you, I have finished brewing for today,” he said somewhat formally.

“Course mate!” Ron replied, “We are trying to cheer up grumpy guts here. You’d think that after defeating a dark lord, he would at least crack a smile once in a while, wouldn’t you? Fancy a chocolate frog?”

So Draco came and sat beside them, and Harry told his friends and his lover a bit about his day, about Severus’ recovery, his conversation with Sirius and they told him what they had been doing. The autumn afternoon stayed warmish, with the red-gold sunlight reflecting off the orange leaves of the tree and nobody talked about a certain evil wizard who was finally gone for good and who really didn’t matter to them any more anyway.


	52. Chapter Fifty-two

A/N I am posting and running! My lap top battery is about to die but I'll be back later with the epilogue! *hugs Claudia for being so wonderful* ~ Lucie

BTW there just might be a tiny bit of romantic fluff in this chapter *winks at Stella Dubh*

Fifty Two

In the days that followed his return to consciousness, Severus was surprised to find that he now felt totally at ease with Harry. He realised that he not only cared deeply for the boy but also trusted him implicitly and knew he always would. He rejoiced in his company and found himself looking forward to Harry’s visits. All of these feelings were completely new to Severus and the depth of his emotions surprised him. He had never thought he would have children, had never wanted them, but as far as he was concerned Harry was like a son and he had just never thought he would ever feel this way about someone

But even now, several days after the last battle, he did not know how he felt about Lupin. He had ensured that Poppy had all the salve that she needed to help cure the scars on Lupin’s face and it did indeed seem to be working fairly well, at least as far as he could see from a distance, because he refused to get too close to the werewolf.

When Pettigrew had attacked Lupin, Severus had tried desperately to get to the other man, had wanted to help him. But then Black had come back and Lupin had gone to him, even though he, Severus was damaged, in a lot of pain, dying and Severus couldn’t help contrasting Harry’s behaviour with Lupin’s.

He avoided Black whenever possible and when they did happen to be in the same room they were both scrupulously polite to each other, but otherwise they carefully stayed as far apart as they could. It wasn’t too difficult because people were coming and going all the time, the school was chaotic and there were always ways to avoid those that one didn’t wish to see. Not that Lupin ever sought him out anyway, he always seemed to be with Black. To Severus it was all too reminiscent of their school days with the two remaining Marauders always sticking together, forever in each other’s company.

But now he had to face them. Because finally after months of research and experimentation Severus had found the formula that he had been looking for, at last he could cure Lycanthropy.

Harry’s miracle cure had been just that really, a fluke, a one off, it was certainly not something that would ever be repeated. Harry loved Draco so much and he had wished so hard for a cure that he had simply willed it to be so. But Harry was unique, that combination of power, love and desire could not be replicated. Undoubtedly the essence that the boy had surrendered to Draco did have an effect. Severus only needed a tiny quantity of it but there had still been one ingredient that he could not discover, one factor that was missing. He had tried endless different potions ingredients but none of them were right, there was still that one factor that was missing and that was what had had Severus stuck. Until now.

After the final battle Fawkes had moved in to the dungeon. It appeared that the bird had simply decided that he was staying with Severus and so he did. He made himself at home, settling himself onto the battered but familiar perch that Severus had retrieved from Albus’ office last night. Today Severus had once again brewed the almost perfect potion, his head spinning as he tried to think what the missing ingredient might be and then the bird had flown over to the cauldron and started to cry. Severus had finally found his missing ingredient.

_Phoenix tears._

So now the potion was done and Severus had owled Lupin to let him know. In four days it would be the full moon and Severus thought that Lupin would probably prefer not to transform if he could possibly avoid it. 

He had no doubts whatsoever that the potion would work, he knew it would. Potions were as natural to Severus as breathing, they just made sense. Lupin would have to take the potion for three days, and then that would be it, he would no-longer transform, ever again

So now Severus was slowly working his way up to Lupin’s rooms. The werewolf had offered to come to him, but Severus did not want the other man in his quarters. They were all still at Hogwarts, the outside world seemed to have descended into madness, there were wild parties, endless celebrations, page after page of speculation in the media about Harry, the final battle, Harry, the future and still more about Harry, but here at the school they were safe for now. He and Eileen and Harry and the various others who had lived here for weeks had decided to stay put until things had calmed down a bit. Unfortunately for Severus, that meant that Lupin was still here, and so was Black.

Severus felt like he was fourteen again and about to face the Marauders at their most nasty, their very worst. His heart seemed to be pounding in his chest and his hands were slick with sweat, slowly, very slowly he made his way upstairs, clutching the potion tightly. When he finally reached Lupin’s office, he felt like his heart must have sunk to his boots by now.

He lifted his hand to knock at the door, half hoping that the werewolf had gone out, but he should have known better, after all when had Severus ever had good luck when it came to the Marauders?

Lupin and Black were sitting by the fire. It was really cold now in the evenings but Severus’ shiver had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with his memories. He had been half tempted to take Harry with him, but he was glad now that he had not given into temptation. First of all there was something rather pathetic about a grown man running to a teenager for help, even if Harry was very mature and very probably the most powerful wizard in the world. But more importantly if Harry had been here right now then Severus thought that he might not have made it through the door before turning tail and running. 

He cared about Harry, possibly more than he had ever cared about anyone ever before, even Lily or Eileen. But Harry still looked remarkably like his father, most of the time Severus barely even noticed the resemblance anymore, but here, in this setting, it would have been too noticeable, too striking and Severus thought that he would not have coped well with that. But the last two Marauders were looking at him expectantly, so instead Severus did what he had done for years. He schooled his features so that absolutely no expression showed, squared his shoulders and walked into the room.

 

“Severus!” Lupin stood and walked forward. Severus was surprised at the interest and eagerness the other man was showing but thought that the werewolf was probably desperate to see the potion. Lupin came all the way over to where Severus stood before he spoke. 

“Is that it?” Remus asked, a touch of awe in his voice as he looked down at Severus’ hands.

In his hands, hands that were shaking just a little, Severus carried the potion. It was in a large glass vial, pear shaped with a flat bottom and covered by a cloth. Severus didn’t speak, he couldn’t have spoken if his life had depended on it, instead he swallowed and nodded.

Lupin grasped him around the wrist and gently pulled him closer to the fireplace, then once Severus was where he wanted him to be, he let go of Severus’ wrist and reverently took the potion to the table, setting it down gently.

“Will it really work?” Black questioned staring at the bottle in disbelief. Severus thought that that was the first question that the other man had asked him without prompting all week.

Annoyed at the suggestion that he would create a potion that wouldn’t work, that he would be cruel enough to get Remus’ hopes up with promises of a false cure, Severus twisted his mouth into a familiar sneer. “Of course it doesn’t work, Black, I just thought I would like to experiment with your favourite werewolf!”

“We don’t doubt you, Severus.” It was Lupin that spoke, “it is just so hard to believe that there is a cure after so long. I don’t know what to say Severus, how to thank you.”

 

Severus’ mouth twisted even more, he had to get out of this overly warm little room, with its blazing fire and hated inhabitants. He didn’t want Remus’ gratitude and he refused to admit, even to himself, that he wanted the man’s affection. “Well you could hurry up and take the potion and let me get back to what I need to do.” Severus had to stay until Lupin took the potion, just in case there were any unexpected side effects or problems. While he knew that the potion would work and that it shouldn’t have any nasty side effects, there was always a chance that a particular individual would react badly to a potion.

“Er, I had better go, Moony.” Black set aside the glass that he had been nursing; from its size and the colour of the liquid that was still left in the bottom Severus thought that it was probably whisky.

Lupin looked at his friend, and something passed between them in that glance, something intimate, filled with understanding. So that was how it was? Severus thought angrily, he should have known. They were fucking! It was a crude word, one that Severus rarely used even in his own mind, but it fitted his feelings of bitterness. He was so wrapped up in those feelings that he didn’t realise that Black was now standing right in front of him.

“Severus?” It was Black that was speaking, Severus barely recognised his voice for a moment, since when did his worst enemy use such a soft tones with him? And since when did the other man call him Severus?

Black cleared his throat. He held his hand out in front of him, as if he were asking Severus to shake it. Severus looked at it stupidly

 

“It seems that I owe you a lot. Severus Snape,” Black said, “More than I could ever repay, you’ve kept Harry safe all these years and you have cared for him, the way that I should have done, if I had not been such a hot-headed prick. Harry cares about you, it is obvious in the way he looks at you and talks about you. I don’t know everything that happened between you this summer, or very much at all about what you have been through. But I do know that you kept him alive, you kept him sane, and looked after him. You cared for him when he was sick and protected him in a way that we all should have done.”

Severus had looked up when Black started to speak inadvertently locking his gaze with his long time enemy and now he couldn’t break away. He couldn’t believe what the other man was saying. Black hated him, had always hated him and nothing and nobody would ever change that. But there was something gleaming in the other man’s eyes that Severus hardly recognised and had certainly never in a million years expected to ever see in Sirius Black’s eyes and directed at him. It was admiration, regard.

Severus’ breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t speak, he could barely even breathe.

 

“We should have listened to Lily, she was always right. She said that you were a good man; an honourable man and we scoffed at her. We were total gits to you, for years, for no real reason. You didn’t deserve what we did to you Snape, you never did, but we were idiots then. Harry has told me often enough what a prick I was, and he is right. I am not just saying this to get on Harry’s right side, although I wouldn’t like to risk a straight competition between us. I’m pretty sure I would lose because he really does love you. I owe you this apology, Snape, and since James isn’t here to say it any more, I am saying it for us both, for all of us, I am really, really sorry.”

Something embarrassingly like a sob broke free from Severus’ lips. He felt like his knees were about to give out, that he was about to collapse. Back when they had been schoolboys, Severus would have given anything to hear such words from any of the Marauders, he had hated them and admired them in equal measure. It had really hurt that they had taken a cowardly little rat like Pettigrew under their wing and always been so hateful to him. 

 

When he was in first and second year, he used to lay in bed at night, and make up scenarios in which he would save one of the boys, usually Lupin, and the others would see him in a new light. They would appreciate him then, and turn to him, including him in all their escapades. 

He had tried so hard to make them like him and then when he had realised that was never going to happen he had worked hard on making them hate him instead. In that he had succeeded easily as it seemed that they had been half way to hating him anyway. It had been okay when he had had Lily as a friend, but later when she had fallen in love with James, and things with Lupin had gone sour, he had been so lost, so lonely. That was one of the reasons that he had turned to Voldemort.

His heart was pounding now, he heard a roaring in his ears and he still couldn’t quite find his breath.

“Severus? Severus?” It was Lupin’s voice, but it sounded so far away, “are you alright? Do you need to sit down?” They had their hands on him, and he would have resisted them, but they didn’t seem to want to hurt him, they were guiding him to one of the chairs, helping him to sit.

“What did you do Padfoot?” Lupin was saying crossly, “did you hex him or something? Because if you did…”

“I didn’t say anything, I didn’t do anything either! I was trying to say thank you!” Black sounded petulant. “Are you alright Snape? I didn’t mean to upset you. Snape? Severus?”

Severus was still having trouble breathing. Black was really apologising?

“I…I…” he couldn’t speak properly, he could barely even think.

“Fuck it all, Snape, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Black’s tone had turned plaintive. Lupin thrust a glass into Severus’ hands and commanded him to drink. So Severus tried to do as he was told.

His hands were shaking so much though, that he couldn’t quite bring the glass to his lips, Lupin reached out and twined his fingers around Severus’ own, helping him to steady the shaking.

“Why now?” His words sounded broken, “I would have brought the potion anyway and I didn’t look after Harry for you, or for James Potter, I did it because I care about him too.” He couldn’t believe that they still thought so little of him, that they could think he had looked after Harry just to gain their approval and that they believed he would be so spiteful as to withhold the potion if they didn’t stay in his favour. His rising anger made his voice steadier, “Are you trying to take the piss out of me? Is that your game?”

He looked up and met Black’s eyes again, only to see honest concern.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Black said quietly, “I think that if I upset you Harry would seriously kick my arse.” He smiled wryly, “I can see why you might think that I was trying to though, hell, we’ve not exactly treated you well have we over the years have we? Er you aren’t going to tell Harry about this are you?” His expression had turned wary, “cause I didn’t mean to upset you remember, I was trying to apologise!”

Severus fought down an insane urge to laugh. “I rather doubt that Harry would believe me.” he said dryly, “After all that we have said and done to each other since we were children, the fact that I nearly collapsed because you apologised would seem very far fetched indeed.”

Black grinned.

“If I had known it would have this effect I might have tried it years ago!”

Severus bristled and the other man held his hands out in supplication.

“Look, I didn’t mean that in a nasty way, I was just joking. I am really am trying to apologise, Snape. I truly am sorry. For the last sixteen years my life,” he laughed bitterly, “- and my death - have been total and utter shite. Twelve years in Azkaban, two in hiding and two behind the veil. I am nearly forty years old and I have never really had a life. I don’t want to hate you anymore Snape, you are obviously a good man. I doubt we will ever be friends, but you are important to the only two people that I really love, and I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want them to choose you instead of me.

“Please can we put the past behind us? Move on?” Black was sitting on a footstool so that he was on the same level as Severus and once again he held out his hand again, more tentatively this time. Severus stared at it. He didn’t know what to do, hating Black was so much a part of his life, so much a part of him, that he didn’t know if he could let it go. He still felt the injustice of it all, it still rankled.

But then he thought of his nephew, of all those years ahead of him, years which he would no longer be spending alone with only his mother the only person to care about him. Harry loved him and his godfather knew it, Harry had even told Severus so himself, albeit when he was nearly hysterical. Severus wasn’t naïve enough to think that Harry would say it very often, or ever again if it came to that. But he had obviously made it very clear to his godfather that he, Severus, was important to him and that if it came to a choice between them, Black might not win.

Then he thought of all the years that Harry had been alone, struggling against huge odds, hated for something he could not help, by the Muggles with whom he had spent his miserable childhood, and then as soon as he had come to school he was hated again by Severus, and once again it was for something he couldn’t help. It had not been Harry’s fault that James Potter was his father or that he had been revered since toddler-hood for something else that was beyond his control. He thought of how Harry had forgiven him and how happy it would make his nephew if the two men he cared most about most were no-longer enemies. Harry had defended him, he did care about him but Severus knew that Harry also loved Black, very much indeed.

He realised that if he truly wanted Harry to be happy that he didn’t really have a choice. Besides he didn’t want to feel bitter anymore, Voldemort was dead and he could have a real life, start anew. So finally making his mind up he reached out and grasped the other man’s hand. Black’s jaw dropped, and then his face broke into an amazing smile, one that lit up his entire face, one that Severus never thought to see directed at him.

“That’s great!” Black said, “That’s fucking fantastic! Do you see that Moony? We shook hands!” The man was babbling Severus thought with amusement. 

“Yes, well,” Severus, said, “I think that Lupin really should take his potion now, and then I shall depart.” Severus had regained a lot of his equilibrium, but he really did not want to be here much longer, and Black could forget about friendship, they were no-longer enemies and that would have to be enough, even for Harry.

 

Lupin and Black, shared another glance, and then as Black literally bounced to his feet, Severus looked at him somewhat scornfully, “You are as exuberant as ever I see?” he said disdainfully, deciding that even if they were no longer enemies it didn’t mean he had to indulge Black’s tendency to act like a two year old. He was somewhat chagrined when Black just laughed. “Don’t change too much, Snape,” he said, “I would miss you if you were any other way!” He was still grinning when he left, banging the door behind him.

“Are you okay Severus?” Lupin said, taking Black’s place on the footstool and gently brushing his fingers against Severus’ hand. “I think that you had quite a shock there didn’t you?” 

“I am fine Lupin, I just never expected….” Severus tried to speak evenly, he had already said too much to this man. Both Lupin and Black had seen too much of how Severus truly felt tonight

“I think you should have a drink. Whisky? Laphroaig?”

Severus still felt reluctant to spend any time here, so he shook his head, but he didn’t want to stand up yet, his legs still felt rather shaky

“Why did he do that? Harry was used to the way we fought, he didn’t really care. As long as we avoided eachother most of the time, it wasn’t even that noticeable, he didn’t have to do that, he didn’t have to apologise.” Severus said, he felt completely confused.

“Sirius, wants to get on with his life, I think he has finally grown up and didn’t you hear him? The two people that he loves most both care about you very much.”

Lupin’s voice was soft, his words even softer, “One of those people he mentioned is Harry, do you know who the other one is?”

This time the eyes that studied him were not grey as Black’s were, they were amber and full of an emotion that Severus couldn’t quite believe.

Severus shook his head, that tightness in his chest was back again.

“Severus, you have been avoiding me for months, avoiding this conversation. It’s me, that cares about you, you know I do, I have for years.”

Severus’ face tightened; “If this is because of the potion…” he began.

“Oh fuck the bloody potion!” Remus shouted! “I have been a bloody werewolf since I was six-years-old, if you think this is about your bloody cure then I will pour it down the fucking sink! It isn’t about that it’s about you and me!”

Severus flinched. Lupin never spoke like that. He was always so even-tempered, calm. But right now Severus could easily sense the feral wolf that dwelt close below the surface.

Lupin had leapt up as he spoke, but now he sat again and gently took Severus’ hands in his own, Severus could not help noticing that his own hands were still trembling.

“I am sorry Severus for shouting at you, but please listen to me? I love you, I have loved you since we were fifteen, there has never been any one that I cared about in the way that I care for you.”

“But what about Tonks?” Severus asked, he didn’t like the way that his voice shook when he said her name.

“Tonks was a mistake. I cared about her deeply, but I never loved her, not like I love you. I have been very weak Severus, such a coward. I should have told you what I was, what I am, when we were first together, but I never told anyone, I was too ashamed. When Tonks took an interest in me, it was easier to go along with what she wanted; I was so fed up with being alone. But once we were engaged and you came back, I realised that I had made a terrible mistake.” Remus’ voice cracked this time, but his eyes still bore into Severus’ own and he still held Severus’ hands tight.

“If Dora hadn’t died, I would have told her the truth. She was so good, so sweet, but a real firecracker when she wanted to be. She would probably have killed me, but it wouldn’t have been right to marry her, not feeling the way I did. Do.”

“And Black? What about Black? When it comes down to a choice between the two of us you always choose the mutt,” Severus couldn’t help the bitterness that had crept into his tone.

Remus sighed, “you’re upset about my staying with Sirius in the Ministry, when you were injured too, aren’t you?”

Severus looked away and Remus gently squeezed his hand.

“I told you before, Severus, I am not a brave man. I didn’t want to see how badly injured you were. It was easier to stay back and keep telling myself that Harry would heal you. As for Sirius? I don’t feel that way about Sirius, I never have, Sirius is my best friend and I care about him, but I have never loved him like I love you. Besides, Sirius loved someone else, someone he could never have. We’ve had the occasional pity fuck, but never more than that.”

“Who does Black love?” Severus asked, but he didn’t really need to be told, he realised that he had known the answer all along.

Lupin told him anyway.

“He loved James of course, he adored him. He would have done anything for James, he has never gotten over his death, I don’t think he ever will.”

“Did Potter feel that way about him too?”

Remus shook his head. “No,” he said, “James only ever loved Lily, she was the only one for him, he never even thought of Sirius like that, it nearly tore Sirius apart.”

“But then why did Black hate me? Why did he try so hard to drive Lily and I apart?” Severus felt shakier than ever. He didn’t understand.

“Because James loved Lily, and Sirius loved him so much that James’ happiness was all that mattered to him, for Sirius the fact that James had someone that loved him as he should be loved, that was more than enough.”

“Oh Merlin,” Severus said, “what a mess!”

“Yeah,” Lupin said, “it really, really was. Poor Harry, it is even more amazing that he is not a raving nutcase when you realise what total prats we have all been.”

Severus couldn’t look at Lupin anymore, he still felt deeply hurt, but then he was used to that when it came to the Marauders. He wanted to touch that face, the one that had always meant so much to him, but Lupin had chosen Black not Severus, and Severus would not play second best to anyone, ever again.

There was little sign on Lupin’s face now of the horrendous burns that Pettigrew had inflicted, the ‘Harry Salve’ was doing its job well. Severus suspected that after Lupin had taken the lycanthropy cure there would be no trace at all.

But some of what Severus was feeling must have shown in his expression because Lupin was staring ahead, as if looking back to that day.

“When you collapsed in the chamber,” Lupin said, “I thought that I might die too. How could I live without you? When Harry started screaming, I thought that my heart would break.”

“Sirius had come back; he was alive, for a brief moment. I….I could hardly contain my happiness and then I looked for you, but you were falling.” He closed his eyes.

“I thought that I had lost you Severus. It was like the end of the world!”

His thumb was stroking Severus’ own and Severus couldn’t help the tiny little shiver that ran up his spine. He groaned, not loudly, but it was enough for Lupin, he grinned; the look on his face was triumphant, possessive.

“Can I kiss you Severus?” he asked, his eyes full of sincerity now, warm and tender.

Severus thought that his own heart might actually have stopped. Lupin wanted to kiss him? He cared about him? He found that once again he was lost for words, he merely nodded instead.

Then Lupin’s lips were on his own, hot, insistent, demanding. Severus welcomed the kiss; he opened his lips and let the other man take possession of them. Lupin’s tongue forced its way into his mouth, his breath was sweet, musky, he tasted of whisky, of passion.

Severus broke away, “Lupin I…”

The other man took hold of Severus arms and gently pulled him to his feet. “My name is Remus,” he said, and he kissed Severus again, just as demandingly.

Severus moaned, “Oh fuck! Remus!” he said, Remus chuckled, a delicious sound deep in his throat. “I plan to.” he growled tenderly, against Severus’ cheek, “But not just yet.”

Severus felt his knees go weak again, but he didn’t sit down, not this time. He felt he had to say something, anything to stop this seduction, because that was what it was. But he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say the words that would stop it, because deep down, he knew he didn’t want it to stop.

“We’ll do it right this time,” Remus said, “I don’t want to lose you again, I couldn’t bear that. We’ll go at your pace, as slowly, or as quickly as you want. Can we give it a go Severus?”

He reached up and tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from Severus’ face.

“Please?”

Severus’ eyes grew damp. He still couldn’t speak, so he swallowed hard and then nodded again.

Remus laughed, a triumphant laugh, a delighted sound.

“YES!” he said. He punched the air and grabbed Severus again, kissing him even more possessively. Then Severus couldn’t help smiling too, he ducked his head and blushed. All at once he felt ridiculously happy.

But Remus had moved across the room. “I think that this calls for something special don’t you? He brought out that tattered old gramophone of his, and started to wind it up.

“Remember this?” he said, as the first note of a familiar melody filled the air

_Oh, my love, my darling I've hungered for your touch._

Severus’ breath hitched, and the tears that had just started to recede began instead to overflow. All at once Severus was not a lonely and bitter man any more, he was a fifteen-year-old boy, with a future full of hope, spending some stolen moments with the boy that he loved.

_a long lonely time, and time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much,_

Remus walked back over to where Severus was standing. He stood beside him and opened his arms wide, he cocked his head on one side obviously asking a question.

_are you still mine?_

“Well?” he said, his eyes locked with Severus’

 

“I don’t know,” Severus said, all of a sudden feeling awkward again, doubting that this could really be happening. He could feel his self protective instincts coming to the fore, trying to protect his heart from potential hurt, “I …I erm, I’m not sure.

Remus came and stood beside him, he took one of Severus’ hands in his and gently laid his arm around behind Severus’ back.

_I need your love_

“I don’t know if I want to do this,” Severus said, “I don’t know if we should….”

“Severus.” Remus said as he wrapped the arm around his waist instead and grabbed his hand, pulling him close as the music swelled.

_I need your love_  


“Severus,” he said again, in a voice that was low and deep and full of promise.

“Shut up and dance.”

So Severus did, he was fed up with fighting, with struggling against others and himself. He wanted someone to take care of him for a change. So he let himself be pulled close to Remus, let his head rest on the other man’s shoulder whilst he breathed in the woody, earthy scent that seemed to be Remus’ own. He forgot about everything but listening to the music and allowed himself to be led around the room by the man that he had loved beyond all reason since he was a teenager and as he danced he let himself believe that maybe everything was going to be alright after all, that he did have a future and it was indeed full of promise.

_Godspeed your love to me_

If you want to hear the song that Severus and Remus are dancing to whilst you read the last few paragraphs then go here winks

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-idDbIfGvw


	53. Epilogue - Nineteen Weeks Later

A/N Finally, at long last, the Epilogue. Please see end notes for thank yous and a couple of explanations. I hope you enjoy it. ~ Lucie

 

Epilogue – Nineteen Weeks Later

Eileen was delighted to see that Minerva had ordered éclairs for tea today. Ever since the final battle they had met every Thursday for a chat but today was obviously special somehow, because since when had Minerva provided cream cakes? It was normally short bread, or scones and jam, never such extravagant fripperies.

She smiled at her friend. Minerva had hardly changed in sixty something years. Well in actuality she had, she was now the confident, efficient and somewhat formidable headmistress of one of the greatest magical schools in the world, but Eileen could still see frequent glimpses of the solemn little girl who had first befriended her on their first home-sick night in the Gryffindor dormitories.

She sometimes wondered how her son would have faired if he had not been sorted into Slytherin, if the hat had made a different choice and put him in Gryffindor as it had done with her. Perhaps then he would not have been as open to the influences of people like Mulciber, Avery and Lucius Malfoy? Of course the latter of the three had changed beyond all recognition now of course, since his time as a prisoner. Severus had had a hard time for so very long, he had been disliked and hated, which had made him withdrawn and defensive. But that had all changed now, thanks to Harry, because of her grandson, Severus’ bravery and his loyalty to the side of light was known to the whole world. Severus was respected and admired now, feted wherever he went, much to his own disgust. 

She smiled to herself for a moment, when she thought of her bad tempered, prickly son. Somehow he had managed to survive for more than twenty years as a spy; he had saved her Harry time after time.

No, in truth, the hat had been right all those years ago Severus represented all that was best about Slytherin House. It was Severus’ cunning which kept his true loyalties undetected by Voldemort and his ambition which had set him on such a difficult path in the first place. What could have been more ambitious than to be a lead player in the scheme to defeat a seemingly undefeatable wizard, when almost everyone else had believed that all was lost? Severus was one of the bravest and most steadfast men that she had ever known she told herself proudly. He was a hero and Slytherin deserved heroes too.

“Harry seems so happy to be back, he has really settled in, he is a like a. different boy. ” Minerva said cutting into Eileen’s thoughts. The school had opened again after Christmas and the usual schedule had been altered so that the school year would end at the end of July, hopefully , giving the pupils plenty of time to finish their NEWTS. The staff would then get a very short holiday before the next school year began .

Harry had indeed been unsettled for a while, as if he did not quite know what to do with all these extra people in his life, he seemed to want to please everyone all at once but finally in the middle of February he appeared to have completely relaxed, realised that he could just be himself and that everyone would happy with that. 

The children had all been in trouble for sneaking into Hogsmeade to celebrate Ron’s birthday and coming back rather the worse for wear, even Hermione, who as head girl had been lucky not to find herself suspended for the escapade. She was probably only saved by the fact that the head boy, Draco had been there too, and Minerva didn’t want to dismiss both of them at the same time. Then of course there was the fact that the head teacher seemed ready to indulge some of the students in her senior year far more than Eileen would have believed. So they had all gotten away with a stern talking too and a week of detention. 

Eileen thought that it was this leniency on Minerva’s part and her own acceptance of Harry’s part in the escapade which had helped him begin to understand that he did not always have to get everything right for his family to care about him, that he could make mistakes, test the boundaries, get things wrong sometimes, they would continue to love him anyway.

Eileen was actually delighted with Minerva’s leniency if she were honest with herself. In her opinion the children who had fought alongside Harry and supported him, long before the adults had, deserved to act up a bit and finally get to behave like the teenagers that they truly were.

Minerva had originally asked Harry if he would like to be head boy and had received a polite but firm refusal. Harry had had enough of responsibility, he just wanted to hang out with his friends, study for his exams, and spend time learning about healing from Poppy Pomfrey. Harry had indeed decided that he wanted to be a healer and Eileen could not be more delighted.

It was good that the children had gone back to school, people were beginning to rebuild their lives and she thought that Hogwarts was a great place for all those children who had had to grow up too fast to have just the last little bit of their childhood before it was too late. She would see a number of them later and catch up on their news; she had grown close to several of them over the last year, Luna and Neville, two brave and somewhat quirky individuals, who had always supported Harry. Ginny who was finally free from the shadow of Voldemort, the girl fairly sparkled with happiness these days! And of course she was deeply fond of Harry’s closest friends Hermione and Ron and Draco, whom she hadn’t liked at all to begin with, but who had developed into a loyal and likable young man. She felt so lucky, so blessed to be welcomed into their lives

There had been some shock and consternation when Minerva had appointed Draco as head boy in Harry’s stead. Ron had even said something about the fact that nearly killing your headmaster obviously was not considered enough of a misdemeanour to stop the appointment. Fortunately Draco had taken the comment in the teasing vein that it had been meant and indeed the friendships that he had been building with Harry’s Gryffindor friends had not disintegrated upon the resumption of school. Harry had been delighted with Draco’s appointment as head boy though and Eileen thought that Minerva was right, the boy did deserve another chance, and so far, eight weeks into the new school year he was doing a really good job, well apart from the recent Hogsmeade episode that was.

Eileen thought that it was a good thing that Slytherin had one of its pupils in the senior post, that poor house had had a bad shock at the defeat of the Dark Lord and many of the children had lost their fathers to Voldemort or to Azkaban. Eileen suspected that a good number of them had expected to be hated and despised upon their return, only to come back and find that one of Slytherin House was in such a position of responsibility, it had been it seemed - well according to Harry at any rate - a very welcome surprise. Draco had after all taken the Dark Mark and apparently supported Voldemort, even if he had subsequently changed sides and fought at Harry’s side instead, it sent a very good message to the whole school Eileen thought, one about the possibility of redemption, of forgiveness. But she would ask Harry about it later, when she saw him for supper.

That was the other reason that Eileen loved her Thursdays so much, her weekly meal with her grandson. Eileen was very aware that it was an indulgence of Minerva’s which allowed such a treat. None of the other students got regular family visits like this. But then Eileen knew that her friend was of the opinion that Harry deserved the odd indulgence and they all knew that Harry would not allow such special treatment to go to his head. Severus came too whenever he could, spending as much time as possible with Harry, and with Remus too of course. Eileen was delighted that her somewhat dour son had found love at last. He truly was so much happier these days.

But those suppers were also a gift for Eileen weren’t they? Eileen would never stop regretting that she had not been there for Harry, that she and Severus had not taken him away from the Dursleys when he was still a little boy and Minerva knew it. Some things could never be repaired, it was too late to give Harry a childhood, but she could still love him with all that she had, something that was incredibly easy to do.

He desperately lapped up each hug or caress, each kind word that came his way and luckily Eileen always had plenty of those to give to her grandson. She knew that deep down she would never really forgive herself for the dreadful childhood that Harry had suffered. She felt that she should have known that Harry would need his other family, his uncle, his grandmother, but instead she had blindly trusted that Rosie’s daughter would be like her mother and father, kind and loving. She had never suspected that Petunia would turn out to be far more like Tobias. But she wasn’t going to think about that now. Harry would be here soon although sadly Severus wouldn’t make it this time as he was in Seattle, helping werewolves in Washington State. She was so proud of her son, he really had blossomed of late and was currently working on a serum based on the blood of werewolves who had already been cured, apparently this was modelled on the way that Muggles created vaccines, which prevented disease. Draco had explained it all to her one day a month or two ago. She would see Severus soon, she knew, but sadly not today. 

She shook herself, she was becoming too maudlin she thought. Eileen decided that she was not going to waste this precious time with regrets, she could do her regretting at her leisure later.

“So why the éclairs, Min?” Eileen asked.

Minerva smiled in a very self satisfied way. We have a very special guest today, and he did so love éclairs, it is just so very sad that he can’t enjoy them quite as much as we do any longer. The headmistress rolled her eyes in the direction of the wall, and Eileen, followed her gaze, only to see the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which had hung there, its inhabitant deeply asleep since the headmaster had died.

Only he wasn’t asleep any longer. Albus Dumbledore was awake at last.

She could not help the small gasp that escaped as she saw him gazing back at her.

“Hello, Eileen,” he said, in his kindly, twinkly way.

Eileen’s lips thinned, she felt the anger that she had held in abeyance for far too long, break free of its restraints, the fury that had sprung to her heart when she thought of this man, who was supposed to have protected her grandson, looked after him, of what he had allowed to happen, allowed to take place. Not to mention the way the man had used Severus.

“Don’t you hello me, Albus Dumbledore, and don’t you dare twinkle at me either! It is about time that you woke up isn’t it? What the heck did you think that you were doing with my grandson? Neglecting him, leaving him with those Muggles? Leaving him to fend for himself, putting him in danger, and then going off and dying and not waking up to offer him support! All this time, that he had to cope alone, or might have done, luckily he wasn’t alone, he had me and Sev and his friends, but he could have been, you didn’t care. He is seventeen, just a boy! What were you thinking?

“I have a good idea to go and find a nice bottle of turpentine and a rag to apply it!”

Dumbledore flinched.

“I know I deserved that,” he said contritely, “Minerva was not best pleased either, when I woke up. Hence the éclairs I think!” He looked somewhat ruefully at the confections as he spoke, “They used to be my favourites you know?”

Eileen was sure that she felt her blood boil.

“Cakes!” she exclaimed, “you are complaining about your lack of cakes, when my grandson was beaten and starved and ignored? Repeatedly put in dangerous situations and not given enough information? Unsupported for far too long? When my son assumed that his life was over and that he would die hated and reviled?”

“But I sent you the information that would help Severus, and Harry, did all right, he killed Voldemort, he survived.” Dumbledore said, as thought that made everything all right.

“Oh he did all right!” Eileen shouted, “but it was no thanks to you! He nearly didn’t survive, we very nearly lost him, and that was your fault Albus Dumbledore, for keeping too many secrets, indulging in too many _misdirections_! If it hadn’t been for Sev….” She broke off, uncertain of what to say, still trembling in fury.

How could she tell him about what Severus had been through? About her own illness and suffering about what they had all gone through come to that?

“If I had known the whole truth, Eileen.” Dumbledore said, “then Harry might not have had to stay with the Muggles.” Eileen couldn’t believe the utter gall of the man. His voice actually held censure, he was chiding her, challenging her.

“How dare you!” she said, coldly, “You could have told me, Albus, you could have told me that Severus was your spy, that he was not a Death Eater, or loyal to Tom Riddle. Not waited until you were already dead and it was already far too late for me to do anything about it! Do you think that I have not regretted the fact that I did not trust my son with the safety of my grandson? Not a day goes past that I don’t wish that I had made a different decision, taken Severus aside and told him the truth? I missed Harry’s childhood, I’d have loved him, looked after him, it could all have been so different. But I couldn’t take the risk, I just couldn’t. I thought that you would have ensured that he was safe, that Lily’s family were looking after him. I trusted you!”

“And as for Severus! He should have been able to come to me for support, instead he said nothing, not a single word! He struggled on for all those years alone. You could have given him permission to tell me, when everyone thought that Voldemort had gone, when everyone thought it was safe, I would have never risked the lives of my son and my grandson, I’d have died first!”

“We all trusted you, Albus.” Minerva said, her disappointment evident in her tone. “I told you that those Muggles were not nice, I didn’t like them. But what they did to Harry! They should not have been treated as well as they have been, they should have gone to prison, when I think of how he was treated!”

Minerva fell silent too. It seemed that she simply did not know what to say. She had been a good friend to Eileen, one of the few that had continued to visit her over the years and ever since Severus had brought Harry to Eileen’s doorstep they had grown even closer. Eileen had told her everything and in return, Minerva had shared stories about Harry and Lily that she had never told anyone before. Minerva McGonagall took her duties seriously and did not gossip about her students outside of school, but once she had known, once Eileen had told her of their relationship, Minerva had shown no hesitation in regaling her friend with tales of Harry and Lily’s exploits. They had both been favourite students of hers it seemed and Eileen had avidly listened to and treasured very single word.

But she had also heard what Minerva had not said. The times that she had worried about Harry, about his safety, the times she had had words with Albus about what he had allowed, no encouraged, the boy to do. But although she had known that Harry’s home was not a very happy one, Harry had kept his secrets well and Minerva had had no idea about what Harry’s life had really been like outside of school, until that fateful night that Severus had returned with a desperately ill, delirious child who had almost died.

But Albus had known at least some of what Harry had been through, even Petunia Dursley had apparently admitted that, all those months ago. But he had ignored the signs that Harry was an abused child, and so many of the others had not seen things either, all those little indications that seemed blatantly obvious in hindsight. But whilst the others, including Eileen herself had blundered about damning them all with their good intentions, all along, Albus had known the truth.

“I am sorry,” Albus said, “I made so many mistakes when it came to Harry and to Severus too for that matter. If I had my time again I would have done things differently. I would have confided more in you Minerva, you always told me that I should trust Eileen.”

Minerva snorted, as if she didn’t quite believe him.

“I have wronged both those boys, I know I have.” Albus said sadly, “and yet I loved them both, like the sons that I never had. How are they? Are they all right?”

He really did look subdued now, his eyes were no longer twinkling and even his beard appeared limp and unkempt. As she took in the forlorn looking figure in the portrait, Eileen found that she could not continue to be angry. She thought that the man had been a fool at times, had made mistakes that had cost her son and her grandson far too much. But really, Dumbledore was only a man really wasn’t he, he had indeed been a very powerful wizard, but he had never been evil, just misguided in some of his actions and he had tried to do what he thought was best, however wrong his plans had been.

Hadn’t they all learned an awful lot about forgiveness in the last year? From a boy who had had all too little understanding in his life and who should have hated them all, but who, quite remarkably did not.

She looked again at the man in the painting, he was forever trapped there now, he could not escape. He would never be able to touch her boys or hold them as she could, never sit down to eat a meal or share a Christmas with them, as she had not so very long ago, he could never experience their forgiveness, not the way that she had.

She saw the sadness and the guilt and the loss, it was evident in every painted line on the portrait’s face and she relented.

“They are fine, Albus,” she finally said, “ just fine.”

“Severus is doing well, he found the cure for lycanthropy. He doesn’t teach any more, but he is travelling and lecturing and curing werewolves.” 

“He cured lycanthropy? He always was brilliant. He doesn’t teach any more?” Albus asked eagerly, desperate it seemed for news. 

Minerva spoke this time, “No Albus, he is happy at last, he always hated teaching you know that. Lucius Malfoy is the potions master at Hogwarts now, he was very ill for a while, his magic was badly damaged, but it seems to be recovering now. He and Narcissa are currently fighting to have their assets returned, they were confiscated by the Ministry, but it seems that such an action was illegal. Sirius Black is helping them; he insisted that if his funds were never taken from him when he was sent to Azkaban, then the Malfoys should be allowed to keep the majority of their funds too. We think that they will have to pay a fine, a very large one probably, but they will not be poor, they’ll be able to rebuild the manor. In the meantime Lucius teaches. He is very good at it and he enjoys it I think.”

Lucius was another person who had found redemption, thanks to Harry. The Malfoys were generally treated with far more suspicion than Severus was, but people seemed willing to give them a chance, which was possibly more than they could ever have hoped for just a few short months ago.

“Sirius enjoyed helping them, I believe.” Eileen said, she couldn’t help but smile when she thought of Black, he had treated her son abominably in the past she knew that, but he was trying to make reparations now. He had funded much of Severus research into the latest form of the lycanthropy potion. Severus had only agreed because the other possible funders had wanted to have a say in Severus’ research, whereas Black had promised to stay completely out of it, and had proved true to his word, happy to fund something that would help others as it had helped Remus. Plus it made Harry happy to see the two men at least attempting to work together, and both of them seemed to want Harry to be happy.

She admired Black’s zest for living, it seemed that having been given another chance of life, he was not going to waste a second of it. He threw himself into everything with such verve, such gusto. Whether it was supporting the Malfoys, funding Severus, or restoring Grimmauld Place, he did everything with huge amounts of energy and passion. 

His adventures were detailed at length in the _Daily Prophet_ , and _Witch Weekly_ , which made both Severus and Harry happy as it meant that both of them were left in peace. There was much speculation about who Sirius might be going out with, who would be a suitable match. In truth though, Sirius seemed happy to be single for now, dividing his time between his various causes and his godson and his friend.

“Remus is back teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, so what with him being here as well as the Malfoys and Harry of course Severus returns regularly too.”

“Severus and Remus? Are they friends?” Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling again now and he looked like an excited child on Christmas morning. “And Severus and Harry.”

“How much do you know?” Eileen asked, because Albus did seem to know that she, Severus and Harry were related, that the war was over, that Riddle was dead, and Sirius alive, but not much else.

“There is a lot that I haven’t told him Leeny, he only woke up an hour or so ago.” Minerva said.

So Eileen sat down again, she looked at the old man for a few moments more and then she told Albus everything. All the amazing things that had happened since her grandson had come to her home all those months ago and Minerva joined in on the conversation and lots of tea was drunk as the story was told. Albus asked lots of questions and nodded at some things and seemed surprised at others. He was overjoyed to hear that Severus and Remus’ relationship was still going strong and that Sirius’ return had not placed too much strain on their relationship or on the relationship between Severus and Harry. 

Having caught up on the most recent news of Severus, Albus asked, “And how is Harry now?”

But just then a little tinkling sound filled the office. Minerva smiled, quite kindly Eileen thought, “why don’t you ask him yourself she suggested, that sounds like him now.”

Slowly the door opened and Harry walked into the room, he looked very different from the way he had when Dumbledore had last seen him. Harry had grown up. He was not the skinny little boy with the sad eyes that Eileen had first met. He smiled that lovely smile of his, walked over, bent down and gave her a kiss. He would never be tall, her Harry, but he was taller than her, towering a giddy eight inches over her 5ft frame. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him, it always did. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve someone as wonderful as Harry in her life, but she was not complaining at all!

“Hello love!” she said, “had a good week?” Harry nodded 

“Yeah, you?” His eyes widened when he spotted the éclairs “oooh any of those going spare?” 

Eileen and Minerva smiled at each other. Harry might be an extraordinary young man, the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ as he was now known in the media and indeed to just about everyone else, but he was also a teenage boy and he was always hungry.

“Hello Harry,” Dumbledore said when it seemed that Harry was too focussed on the others in the room and of course the éclairs, to notice that he was now awake.

Harry stiffened. He stood at the table, a cake half way to his lips, not moving for a moment or two, not looking at any of them. Then slowly he replaced the confection and even more slowly he carefully turned around, Eileen saw with a shock that he had gone very white, as if all the blood in his face had been drawn away.

“ _Professor Dumbledore?_ Harry sounded completely astonished.

“It is so good to see you my boy!” Albus sounded delighted, and full of emotion, his words were delivered tightly, as if it hurt to say them. Eileen was pleased to see that the Headmaster also looked nervous, as though he was bracing himself to be rejected by the boy.

Harry didn’t speak; he opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His fists clenched and unclenched, he was trembling. Eileen wondered what he was thinking, but then she looked at Harry’s eyes. They were so expressive, they truly did show everything that he was feeling, all the hurt, the anger, the pain.

It had been nineteen weeks since the defeat of Voldemort and Harry had only just begun to heal. He had had to suffer so much for that one anticlimactic day; he had lost so much, more than anyone else, and all because of a prophecy and a madman’s insane obsession. But between them all, all the people that cared for Harry he was beginning to learn that he was valued and loved, not for defeating Voldemort, but for just being Harry.

Slowly Harry moved forward, until he was standing right in front of the painting of Dumbledore. And then whatever turmoil Harry had been feeling seemed to just disappear. It probably had, Eileen thought. She had never known anyone as forgiving as Harry. Eileen was sure that Albus had noticed the change because the old man’s eyes were twinkling madly, which should not have been possible in a painting, however good the artist was.

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said, “You’ve woken up at last!”

“I have my boy!” Albus said, “and look at you, all grown up, what a fine man you have turned into!”

Harry ducked his head, and Eileen could see that the tips of his ears had turned pink, he was blushing.

“I did it, Professor,” Harry whispered, “I defeated Voldemort! It’s all over now.”

“I know, Harry, Minerva told me and I am so very proud of you my boy. What you have done, what you have achieved, is truly miraculous.”

“I didn’t do it alone Sir, I had lots of help. Do you know about me and Severus, and Eileen?” Harry turned to the two women. “Have you owled Severus? I’m sure he would really like to know that the Professor has woken up.” 

“We’ll owl Sevvy, Harry, don’t worry about that,” Eileen reassured her grandson. She was overjoyed at close relationship between her son and grandson. Severus had been a little nervous when he had told Harry about his new relationship with Remus, fearing that the boy would be upset or afraid that it would come between them. Of course, he had worried needlessly as Harry had been delighted for both his Uncle and Remus.

“I’m so pleased that you finally have the family you deserve, Harry. Minerva and your grandmother and I, we had a most illuminating conversation this afternoon. I…I wish I had known, Harry, if only I had spoken to your grandmother, if only I hadn’t kept so many secrets.” The old man’s voice was heavy with regret and he held out a hand as if to touch Harry, but that wasn’t possible was it? Even with magic.

Harry reached out to Dumbledore in turn, he placed his own hand on the canvas; it stood out pale against the paint. Dumbledore seemed to be struggling to hold on to his composure.

“I missed you Professor,” Harry admitted softly

“Oh Harry!” Dumbledore said, “I made so many mistakes, I wish I were there with you now, but I wasn’t allowed to wake up before now. They wouldn’t let me, the powers that be. Can you forgive me Harry? Can you ever forgive me for what I did wrong.”

Harry smiled, Eileen had moved so that she could see her grandson’s face.

“Of course I forgive you,” Harry said, “I forgave you long ago. You tried your best, you all did. I have so much now, Professor, so many people that love me. What is the point of dwelling on the past?”

Dumbledore smiled. 

A single tear escaped from one twinkly eye and made its way down the old wizard’s cheek.

“Do you know, my boy, I think that you are by far the finest man that I have ever met?”

Harry laughed, “Don’t be silly Professor! I have my flaws just like everyone else. I’m not perfect, I have lots to tell you about you know, did gran tell you about me and Draco?”

Dumbledore nodded

Eileen levitated a chair so that it stood close to the painting, “It sounds to me like you two have much to talk about, Harry,” she said. “I think that Minerva and I will head on down to supper, we’ll have a house-elf bring you up something to eat.” She had already decided that she would have a word with Kreacher, he had been so much happier, since Eileen had taken him under her wing, he was a different elf these days, happy to look after Harry and reconciled with Sirius, brother to his much beloved, long dead master. Elves just needed a little kindness, something that Harry had in abundance, something that Sirius was learning to show too.

“But didn’t you already tell Professor Dumbledore everything?” Harry asked her. While he wanted to talk with the Headmaster, he didn’t want to miss out on his weekly dinner with his gran. 

Eileen seemed to pick up on his thoughts, “I told the story from my point of view, love,” Eileen said, “I think Albus would love to hear the story from you too. It is your story really after all and perhaps we can have our dinner together tomorrow night, who knows, Sevvy might even be back by then?”

“Oh okay then, if you think so.” Harry settled himself in the armchair, “Are you sure you want to hear it again, Professor?” Harry asked, looking up at Albus questioningly. 

“Yes please, Harry,” Albus said. He looked wistful and sad and very, very happy all at the same time. “I would love to hear your story, right from the beginning, from when I saw you last.”

Eileen smiled, “we’ll see you later then lad?” she said, and her heart swelled with love for her brave, forgiving grandson and she leaned over and gave Harry a fierce hug, gently placing a kiss on his slowly fading scar.

_fin_

A/N - Well that’s it, finally finished! I can’t quite believe how much this story has grown or how long it took to write! I had the last few chapters in mind when I started the story, but it has taken me far longer than I ever thought it would to get to where those scenes felt right. I hade hoped to have this written before Deathly Hallows, but the story wouldn’t co-operate. I tried to incorporate everything that I could from the books, all the little hints and clues that Rowling included, but in the end I am glad that the last book came out before I finished. I felt cheated by several things in the last book. I think that Slytherin should have had a few heroes too, so I gave them that, the Malfoys should have been redeemed more effectively and Severus, Remus and Tonks, if they had to die, deserved a better death. There is not a lot of Deathly Hallows in this story, just a few bits that I ended up incorporating, like Neville’s bravery. Oh and unlike JKR I didn't change my mind, the last word always was scar!

Thank you all for your support and kind reviews, they really have meant a lot to me! I would also like to thank my wonderful betas, for helping me, supporting me, asking pertinent questions and correcting my erratic punctuation. Especially Kim, Laylee, Branny and TQA, who each contributed so much. But I must also thank Claudia, latterly she has been with me every step of the way. The story has benefitted immeasurably from her input and support. I do not know what I would have done without her.

This story is dedicated to my betas and to the gang at Biza’s who are too many to name, but who are, each and every one of them, wonderful people who I am lucky to be able to call friends.

*hugs to you all*

Lucie xxxx


End file.
